


From Eden

by BFab



Series: From Eden [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Anxious Dean, BAMF Castiel, Canonical Character Death, Castiel is not human, Creepy Lucifer, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean in Denial, Dean is not a hunter, Fairy Tale Elements, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Magic, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Pining Dean, Royalty, Sam is too noble for his own good, Sassy Gabriel, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, interrealm travel, nothing actually happens but it's creepy and uncomfortable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-07-19 23:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7381945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BFab/pseuds/BFab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean saw his guardian angel for the first time when he was seven years old.  He discovers later on that his name is Castiel, and he isn't actually an angel, but he is twined into Dean's past - a past that Dean wasn't even aware he had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Angels Don't Exist

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hozier's song "From Eden"
> 
> Hello! Huge thanks to [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion) for being my beta, and trying to read my stuff even though we are both insanely busy all the time. 
> 
> More tags will be added as new chapters go up.

Dean’s mother always told him that someone was watching over him and protecting him, but Dean never took her seriously. He was old enough to know better, to know that she was saying those things to comfort him when he was afraid at night or when life got scary. He’d smile and give his mom a hug, soaking in her warmth and comfort, thinking that he didn’t need anyone but her to keep him safe. He never told her that he didn’t believe her, and he especially never told Sammy that guardian angels weren’t real. It was like Santa; he couldn’t ruin it for younger kids just because he knew better. Good big brothers went along with it, and he could see how much better Sam felt when his mom told them about their guardian. Sam was a worrier, and thinking some invisible being was watching out for him and his brother made him feel better about things, so Dean wasn’t going to tell him otherwise. 

~~~

Dean saw his guardian angel for the first time when he was seven years old. His whole family was in the car on the way to pick out a Christmas tree. It was sharply cold outside, but the sun was shining. The whole family was bundled in hats and scarves, and Mary had put a warm blanket over her sons’ laps after buckling them in. Dean remembered her smile and the way she smelled like cinnamon when she leaned over him to tuck the blanket around his legs. He remembered Sammy’s pink nose and cheeks, and he remembered his dad singing along to the Christmas carols on the radio. A storm rolled in quickly, the car hit some ice, and his dad lost control. As they flipped over and over down into the gulch, there was suddenly a man in the back seat. He was wearing a blue tie and a tan trench coat, and he wrapped his arms around Dean and Sam, somehow staying steady in the wild, terrifying spin of the vehicle. After what must’ve been only seconds but felt like hours of loud crunching noises, the sound of metal groaning, and wild careening, the car stopped. The man looked down at three year old Sammy, peacefully asleep in his car seat, before turning to Dean. Blue eyes locked on to Dean’s wide green ones, searching and intense. After a moment the man - the angel - said in a low, gravelly voice, “I’m so sorry, Dean.” And he was gone.

Mary, Dean’s mother, didn’t survive the car crash. Dean’s dad blamed himself, overwhelmed with guilt, and started drinking heavily. Since John was too deep into his grief and depression to take care of his kids, Dean stepped in to make sure Sammy was ok. He made sure he had dinner and clean clothes to wear, he held his little brother’s hand to walk around the corner to the library to check out another stack of books that Sam wanted Dean to read to him. John couldn’t settle down, and they all moved around a lot. He’d find a motel for them to stay in or a crappy apartment with a month-to-month lease and then disappear for days, finding odd jobs to do in the next town and more often, being too busy trying to drink away his guilt to be there for his boys. Dean did what he could to take care of Sammy, and he talked to his angel.

Dean didn’t know his name, but he knew that the blue eyed man in the tan coat was the guardian his mom had always told him about. He never told anyone that he had seen the man in the crash, not even Sam. But he did write to him, and draw him pictures. He had a shoebox under his bed full of drawings and letters; he wrote about his day at school, or that Sammy got over his cold, or that his dad was gone for nine days this time. He drew pictures of a rabbit he had seen in the woods, or pictures of him and Sam. Sometimes he drew his mom, and sometimes he drew a man in a tie and a trench coat, protecting him and his baby brother in the back of a car. 

~~~

As they got older, Dean enforced bedtime and made sure Sammy finished his homework, even though the kid loved school and was pretty self-reliant as far as school work went. He watched his baby brother brush his teeth to make sure he cleaned them all, made his lunches, got him to school on time, and he put Sam in their closet with headphones playing loud music when John came home drunk and Dean had to deal with him. John was a mean drunk, sometimes violent, and Dean made sure that Sammy was never on the receiving end of it. Those were hard years, lonely and full of more responsibility than a kid should have, but there was no other choice. Dean had to take care of Sam; he couldn’t risk getting put in foster care and separated from his brother, so he kept up appearances and kept Sam safe. 

Dean never really made friends; all of his energy was put into taking care of his brother, and he couldn’t exactly bring anyone home to meet the old man. Besides, he never knew how long they’d be in one place so to him, trying to make friends wasn’t worth the effort. They were just going to leave, move on, and he’d start over all alone again. For as much as he cared about Sam being in school, getting good attendance and good grades, he didn’t bother with his own education. He mostly showed up to school - it gave him a reason to stay out of the house (well, motel/apartment) and away from John - but he didn’t participate, didn’t pay attention, and never did homework. He did just enough work to advance, to not flunk out, and that was good enough for him. His plan for his future was get a job and take care of Sam, give Sam as many opportunities as he could. The sooner he could start working and earning, the sooner they could get away from John. 

When Dean was 14, John came home drunk from a hunting trip. Dean heard the door slam, heard the telltale heavy, staggering steps of an intoxicated John Winchester. “Hey Sammy,” he said quietly, grabbing his walkman off his nightstand, “I need you to take your homework into the closet for me. Stay there until I come get you, ok?” 

Sam’s eyes widened, glancing toward the front room where they could hear slurred curses and things bumping around. “Let me come with you -” Sam started to say; he was getting old enough to realize what Dean was trying to do and thought he could help. 

“ _No_ ,” Dean cut him off firmly. “I’ve got this. You need to stay put, study for your test tomorrow, and I’ll be back later when the old man passes out.” He ruffled Sam’s hair for a moment before guiding him to the closet and closing him inside with his books, a flashlight, and the walkman. Dean straightened, squared his shoulders, and ventured out to the front room where his dad was waiting at the table cleaning his gun after his weekend hunt.

“What the hell have you been doing while I was gone, Dean? This place is a fuckin’ mess. Dishes in the sink, laundry on the couch, how can I leave you in charge of your brother if you can’t even do simple chores?” 

Dean wanted to shrink in on himself, but he kept his chin up and his shoulders back, spine at rigid attention, “I’m sorry sir, I’ll take care of it.” 

John looked at him for a moment, glassy eyed and full of rage, needing an outlet. He didn’t even see his son in front of him, just a target. “You’d better,” he growled, his voice low and menacing, “where’s your brother?” 

“He’s doing his homework, he has a big test tomorrow that he’s studying for. He’s on track to make the honor roll. Sir.” Dean told him with a note of pride in his voice.

“Of course he is, he’s the smart one,” John sneered at Dean, “Sam has something going for him. He’s going to make something of himself. And what about you? You’re just a fuck-up who wanders in the woods and shirks his responsibilities.” 

Dean knew he shouldn’t listen, knew that John probably wouldn’t even remember this tomorrow and it didn’t mean anything, but he felt like his ribcage was collapsing, a dark void of hurt and worthlessness squeezing his organs. His chin dropped, his shoulders rolled forward, and his eyes filled with moisture. His mind was scrambling for a way out of this, a way to get his dad to calm down and go to bed, but John was looking for a fight and Dean was the only available target. “We both know you’re not gonna finish school and you’ll be lucky to find anyone to hire your sorry ass. All I’m asking is that you learn to follow some goddamn orders, but half the time you’re out in the goddamn woods doing who knows what, chasing after fairies or some shit, and even when you’re here, you ain’t paying attention. You need to grow up. Do something for this family.”

Dean _knew_ he shouldn’t engage. He knew this was only going to lead to trouble, but he couldn’t stop the swell of anger rising in his chest. It burst out suddenly, hot tears falling down his cheeks, face turning red as he pointed an accusing finger at his father, “ _I’m_ the one who is always here, who is doing _everything_ for this family and for Sam! You are a worthless, piece of shit drunk and we’d be better off without you!” His voice broke at the end and his anger fizzled out as quickly as it had rolled in, quiet terror taking its place. He lowered his arm and stepped back, eyes dropping to the floor and breath hitching in his chest. His muscles twitched, his whole body screaming at him to run, but he couldn’t move. Even if he could get out of there, he couldn’t leave Sam. So he stood there frozen, feet planted, eyes down, shrinking in on himself and waited for the fallout.

John stood up, gun in hand, swelling with rage. “You ungrateful little _shit_ ” he growled, spittle flying from his mouth, and he brought his arm up to slam the gun down, hard, onto the table as Dean flinched instinctively and put his arms up to cover his head. The loud report of a gunshot sounded through the room, and Dean opened his eyes to find himself against the wall, staring at broad shoulders covered in tan fabric as his guardian angel stood facing John, shielding Dean. The drunk man looked shocked, staring at Dean and down to the gun on the table, wondering how it went off, how Dean made it across the room, who this strange person was, his brain not making thought connections. The “o” shape his mouth made would’ve been comical if Dean weren’t so afraid. The man in the tan coat crossed the room in two long strides, coming nose to nose with John with his jaw set and his blue eyes intense and menacing. “Mary would be ashamed and appalled,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. Dean noticed a muddy red glow around his head and shoulders with black specks shooting through it, pulsing in waves of tightly controlled anger. “This _will_ not happen again.” The strange man touched the tips of his fingers to the side of John’s neck, below his jaw, and he instantly collapsed. Dean’s guardian lifted John without much effort and unceremoniously dumped him on the lumpy, ratty couch.

The man heaved a sigh and turned to face Dean. “Hello Dean,” he said flatly, studying the young teen, “your father is sleeping. In the morning he’ll get a call about a job on an oil rig; he will make a good salary and send home adequate money for you and Sam to get by, but he won’t be around. It will be better for all of you. Call Bobby Singer. He can help. Goodbye, Dean,” and he started to turn away. 

Dean launched himself forward, finally animated after being frozen against the wall while the whole strange, scary mess went down. He grabbed the man’s lapel and half-shouted, “Wait! Who are you? _What_ are you?”

Blue eyes gazed down at him, face serene. “My name is Castiel,” he said in that too-deep-to-be-comfortable voice of his. “I am... your guardian. You should not even know I exist, but this was an emergency,” he holds one side of his coat out and looks down, revealing a bullet hole that went through the tan fabric and must have just missed hitting the flesh underneath. “I’ve done all I can tonight. Goodbye.” And just like that, he was gone. 

Dean stood in the middle of the room for a moment, mind reeling, before his thoughts landed on his brother. “Sam!” he gasped, sprinting towards their room. He opened the closet to find Sam pale and shaking, his face wet with tears. “Dean? Are you ok? I heard a gunshot and I didn’t know what was going on and I didn’t want to come out. Where’s Dad? Is he ok?” 

Dean just gathered his little brother into his arms, “Shhh, Sammy, it’s ok. I’m fine, Dad’s fine, there was just an accidental discharge when he was cleaning his gun. No big deal, ok? We’re gonna go see Uncle Bobby this week, stay with him and Aunt Ellen and Jo for a while. We’ll be fine. Dad’s asleep, let’s get to bed. Can’t be late for school tomorrow.”

~~~

John didn’t remember anything about the night before, as predicted, and the boys were gone at school by the time he finally woke up. Just as Castiel had told Dean, he got a phone call about a great job on an oil rig, and he was supposed to leave immediately. When Sam and Dean got home from school that afternoon, John was putting the last of his things into a duffel bag. “Uh… hey boys,” he said, grabbing his sheathed hunting knife and putting it in the duffel, “I got a job, I need to leave tonight. Uh… I’ll leave you money and stuff and you should… uh…” he looked around the apartment like an answer would magically appear about what to do with his boys while he was gone.

“Actually, Dad,” Dean interrupted, “I talked to Uncle Bobby today. He invited me and Sam to come stay with him for a while, says Aunt Ellen misses us. So that works out pretty good. I can tell him to come pick us up after school tomorrow.”

John just nodded, moving around the room, not looking at the boys. “Yeah, that’s good then,” he mumbled. 

Half an hour later, John emerged from his room with his jacket on and his duffle over his shoulder. Dean and Sam were at the small table eating spaghettios that Dean had heated up for them. “Ok, I’m heading out. I’ll call when I get there and I’ll send money when I get paid. Stay out of trouble. Dean, take care of your brother. See you around, Sammy,” he finished, ruffling a hand through Sam’s floppy hair. And he was out the door.

That night, Dean got everything he could packed and ready to go. By the time they went to bed the closets were empty and there was a pile of backpacks, beaten up suitcases, and trash bags by the front door. The plan was for the boys to go to school, then head back to the apartment and finish up packing. Bobby would come by in the afternoon to pick them up, and they’d be at his place by dinner. 

The next morning was a Friday, and Dean woke up extra early to head down to the office to let them know they were leaving. He told them he’d be back in the afternoon to turn in their keys, and then he went to get Sammy up so they could go to school. Walking back to their apartment in the quiet of the early morning, Dean felt calm and peaceful. He could almost imagine a hand on his shoulder, letting him know things were going to work out. “Castiel?” he whispered, feeling silly about talking to the open air. “Hey, I think you’re there. I think you can hear me. I just want to say… thanks. Bobby and Ellen are great people, and we’re lucky to be staying with them, even for a little while. I don’t know how much you did to make this happen or how, but thank you.” There wasn’t a response, but Dean knew that Castiel had heard him.


	2. Dean has a Conversation with his Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a knack for getting himself in trouble, Cas helps him out of a tight spot, they actually have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!! Here's chapter 2. [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/) is my lovely beta, who has stuck with me and with this story for wayyyyy too long. Any mistakes are my bad.

A month or two at Bobby’s stretched into years, and the Winchester boys finally got the chance to be kids for a while, and grow up with someone taking care of them. It was so good to be part of a family again. Jo was like their sister, she could be annoying, but for the most part they all got along. Sam would help her with her homework and Dean taught her how to fight and how to throw knives. They got real meals cooked by Ellen, with vegetables and everything, and Bobby brought Dean out to his shop to work on cars. Dean actually went to class most of the time. He got his grades on track, while Sam got to join clubs and extracurriculars and he just excelled. 

The morning of Dean’s 16th birthday, his dad’s 1967 Chevy Impala was sitting in the driveway, black paint gleaming, when everyone woke up. John was nowhere to be found. Under the windshield wiper was an envelope with the keys and a card. It was a generic “happy birthday” card, and in addition to the hallmark words of birthday wishes and a picture of a cake John had written “Not much use for a car out on a rig. Take care of her.” 

As Dean took her around the block for his first drive with the car being his, he started speaking softly. “Hey Castiel, it’s my birthday! My dad gave me his car, which I never thought would happen. It’s probably the nicest thing he’s ever done for me. Uh, I just want to say, you saved my life that night a couple years ago. And not just in the avoiding-a-bullet way. Bobby and Ellen are the best thing to ever happen to me and Sam. It’s good to know you’ve got my back. Thanks, buddy.” A noticeable warmth filled the car, and if Dean had closed his eyes he would’ve sworn there was someone sitting in the seat next to him.

~~~

Six years after he got the Impala, Dean was working full time as a mechanic for Bobby and doing well. There was an apartment above Bobby’s shop that he rented; it was small, but it was cheap and it made going to work convenient. Sam graduated high school with high honors, and he scored a full ride scholarship to Stanford. They were settled, they were comfortable, they were happy. Dean was so proud of Sam he could barely stand it, and he was working his ass off at Bobby’s garage to get extra money to send to school with him. His scholarship covered a lot of the normal college expenses, but Dean wanted to make sure he wasn’t lacking anything, and he wanted Sam to be able to focus on school and not have to get a job. College should be fun; he knew Sam would work hard on his studies and he didn’t want him to have anything else to focus on because knowing Sam, he’d end up going from school to work to the library and he’d never have any fun at all. Dean was going to keep responsibility off his little brother’s shoulders for at least a while longer.

As great as things were, Dean was still holding back in his personal life, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was afraid of getting too attached to anyone or anyplace; a childhood of constant moving around would do that. He dated very casually, but never let anything develop, and he didn’t have any close friends. He had Sam, Bobby, Ellen, and Jo, and as far as he was concerned they were plenty. Ellen had started hinting more and more often that she’d like to see Dean with a girlfriend, someone to bring to family dinners, someone he could be happy with, but he was just not at all interested. He couldn’t see himself married with kids, just thinking about it made him antsy. Not that it sounded _bad_ , but it was just something too good and too normal for Dean Winchester to deserve. He’d always be waiting for it to end, waiting for his spouse to figure out that he was just a fuck-up with commitment issues. The good life was the life that Sammy deserved; smart, hardworking, good Sammy. So Dean did his job, worked as hard as he could towards Sam’s future, and kept himself safely and comfortably away from anyone not in his immediate family. Maybe, one day, when Sam was settled and successful, Dean might think about himself. Probably not.

He would still talk to Castiel when it was quiet and peaceful, when he was on his own. He could manage to be lonely in a room full of people, but sitting by himself in the Impala in the middle of an empty field, talking to someone he couldn’t see, was the most secure he ever felt. “Hey Cas,” he said out to the empty field and the stars- years of talking to his invisible guardian had given him a certain sense of familiarity and he decided he could use a nickname now- “Sammy leaves for Stanford next week. I’m so glad he got that scholarship. He totally deserves it, but no way would I be able to put him through school without help. Did you have a part in that? I remember having a bad night where I didn’t sleep and I was so stressed because Sam had gotten his acceptance letter and I just didn’t know how I was going to pay for it. Then around four in the morning I just got a wave of calm out of nowhere and finally went to sleep. When I checked the mail the next day, the scholarship paperwork was there. I mean, that was you, right? There are times when I feel calm or peaceful or safe in stressful situations and I know I should be freaking out but I just… don’t, and then everything works out. You’ve always been there for me, always looked out for me. Just, ah… thanks, Cas. Thank you.”

~~~

A couple months after Sam left for Stanford, Dean was repairing the “Singer & Son’s” sign above Bobby’s garage (Dean was the “son” part of the business). One of the brackets had broken, and the sign would rock precariously anytime the wind got going. It really needed to be repaired before the whole thing came down, so after closing one night when the street was empty, Dean climbed up the ladder with a portable welder and some scrap iron to reinforce the brackets holding the sign up on the side of the building. He has his headphones in (Sam had gotten him an iPod as his “I’m abandoning you for college” gift, and loaded it with all of Dean’s favorite music- as much as he was annoyed by the buttons-that-aren’t-actually-buttons he had to admit it was convenient sometimes) and a bright work lamp illuminating the area where he was working, and he lost himself in the focus and his work, the metal and the music. Between the canvas jacket, thick work gloves and welding helmet he was fully covered and he didn’t notice when a breeze picked up on the street; he was straddling the top of the ladder with a shoulder leaning against the rough brick of the building to steady himself as he worked, nodding along to his music and working. 

By the time Dean noticed that the wind was going, he was almost done working and didn’t want to stop right before he was finished. He shifted on the ladder to feel a little more secure and focused on the metal, trying to finish up as quickly as possible. He was done a minute later, removing his gloves and helmet, and as he sat up to admire his work and stretch his back for just a second before packing up and heading home, a strong gust of wind whipped down the street and the old, rusted bracket on the opposite end of the large sign snapped. Dean’s new repair job held, but the whole sign rocked and swayed for a moment, knocking Dean off balance and toppling the ladder. His arms windmilled, hands searching for something to grasp, when his fingers closed around the bracket he had just repaired. It may have saved him for a moment from falling, but the metal was still searing hot and his hand instinctively opened, trying to escape the heat that lingered from the welding torch. Dean was falling toward the pavement, the ladder and tools on the ground below him promising a dangerous and painful landing.

Then, all of a sudden, he wasn’t falling anymore. Well, he was still falling, but much more slowly and he was being held from behind by strong arms around his chest and for some strange reason his mind, instead of being terrified or panicking, zeroed in on the sound of ripping fabric. That was weird. A moment later he was being set on the ground, on his feet, safely out of the way of the fallen ladder and out from under the swaying sign. As soon as he was on his feet the arms released him and Dean turned to find piercing blue eyes locked onto his face. “Cas,” he breathed, taking a step forward, going for a hug, before he stopped dead with a look of wonder on his face. Behind Castiel there were _wings_ , large and translucent, shimmering with color in the light from the street lamp. “Holy shit,” Dean whispered, “I knew it! You _are_ an angel. You’re my guardian angel, aren’t you?” 

“What? No, no,” Castiel said, trying in vain to get his wings covered in the shredded back of his tan jacket, “Angels are… they’re terrifying. Huge and powerful and wrathful,” his hands waved in front of his face for a moment, trying to convey some vague sense of big and scary, “you don’t want to meet an angel. I am a fairy. I’m your guardian.”

Dean started… _giggling_. He’d never admit it- giggling was definitely _not_ something Dean Winchester would ever do- but it was late, he had almost gotten seriously hurt, his guardian angel- no, guardian _fairy_ showed up in his tan trench coat and sparkly wings and deep voice to save him yet again, and he may have cracked a bit. The whole situation was just so ridiculous. “So you’re, what, my fairy godfather?” he snickered, “Shouldn’t you be like, small, or have pointed ears, or a high, tinkling voice like a bell?” 

Castiel was offended. He set his jaw and straightened up, giving up on trying to conceal his wings; Dean had already seen them and the street was empty anyways. He turned a steely gaze on Dean, voice low and controlled, “I am exactly as I should be, Dean, the only change in my appearance I have to make for the human realm is to conceal my wings. Most of the time I’m not even visible when I’m here, you have a way of getting into situations that require a more... hands-on approach when it comes to my ability to keep you safe.” 

Dean stepped forward, excited, “So you _are_ here even when I can’t see you, I knew it! When good things happen or when I feel better in a shitty situation, that’s you, isn’t it?” His green eyes shone bright and eager, he was leaning forward on the balls of his feet, looking at Castiel’s face, wings, torn coat, checking to see if his ears were pointed (they weren't), his adrenaline and nervous energy were buzzing through him and he had gotten a little bit giddy. He leaned closer still, eyes closing for a moment as he took a deep inhale, "You smell like the woods," he breathed as he straightened up, a small smile of wonder spreading across his face. “You’ve always been able to hear me, haven’t you?” he said softer, reaching out to place a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Ow!” he jumped, yanking his hand back and looking at the red, blistering palm, “Ow. That’s… ow. Shit. I should probably go to the hospital. But I can’t afford an ER visit, I guess just some ice," his voice trailed off into absent mumbling to himself under his breath, "No, not ice for burns, right? Just cold water? I might have some aloe under the sink from when Sam got that sunburn last summer. Fuck, I’m not going to be able to work! I can’t deal with this right now, I told Sammy I’d put money in his account next week-”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel cut him off, trying to get him to calm down, to focus. He waited to speak again until dazed green eyes made their way to his face, “I can help you heal. You won’t be better instantly and you may miss a few days of work, but it will go faster than human medicine. And don’t worry about Sam, he’ll be fine without the money, I’ve been keeping an eye on him as well. You need to get home and get some sleep.” Castiel looked fleetingly at Dean’s hand and said, “I have to retrieve a few items from my realm, but I will be back soon. I’ll meet you at your home in approximately ten minutes.” And he was gone. Dean looked around for a moment, and noticed absently that the ladder and tools were gone from the ground behind him.

As Dean made his way up to his apartment, he looked in the shop for a quick second and found that the ladder was hanging in its place on the wall- he assumed the tools had been somehow put away by Castiel’s fairy magic or whatever it was. He locked up the shop behind him (doors and locks had never stopped Castiel before, he figured he’d find his way into the apartment somehow) and made his way into his home. He had a hard time managing everything one-handed and was a little clumsy, but he worked it out. He retrieved a beer from the fridge, opened it very gingerly, and sat on the couch with his burned hand gently wrapped around the cold glass of the bottle, trying to get the heat out of his palm. He rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes; with the adrenaline gone and his burn temporarily soothed, the exhaustion rolled in. He drifted in and out of sleep with blue eyes and shimmering, colorful wings running through his mind.


	3. Why Did You Call Me Cas?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets fairy medicine and french toast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday!

Dean woke up to the feeling of something wet, soggy, and squishy in his hand. He tried to pull back to see what it was and get the gross feeling _off_ , but his wrist was held in a firm grasp to keep his hand still. He blinked at the sight of Castiel sitting on the coffee table directly in front of Dean, coating his burned palm in some gooey green mush. His tan trench coat was whole and undamaged, concealing his wings once again. “Hello Dean,” Castiel said, not looking up from his work, “please stay still, this will help your burns. I’m almost done, I just need to secure a bandage around your hand and the poultice will be done.” 

Dean made a face at his hand, “Yuck. How long do I have to wear this?”

“It should be ok to take off in the morning, you can give your hand some air throughout the day, and I’ll come apply a new one tomorrow evening. It will be a couple days before you’ll be able to work and handle tools, but this should take away most of the pain as long as you’re careful.” He finished tying the knot on the bandage and said, “get some rest, Dean. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before he could pull his hand away and stand up to leave, Dean grasped his fingers awkwardly around the bandage. “Please, don’t go,” he pleaded, “I have so many questions. Why do I have a guardian? How do you know when I’m in trouble? How do you travel to your… realm? Can I see your wings again? What took you so long? You said ten minutes and it’s been a couple hours. Can I… can I get you a beer or something?”

Castiel didn’t say anything at first, just squinted a bit and tilted his head to the side like he was trying to see a part of Dean that wasn’t on the surface, like he was looking through a murky lens to try and find something within him. “I was trying to get back but Hannah was… you see it’s not typical anymore for a fae to be doing this… she said it’s too risky but you needed… never mind,” he cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head. They lapsed into silence for a few more seconds; Dean was dying to ask about Hannah- _who was she? Girlfriend? Wife? Boss?_ \- and why she wouldn’t want Cas to visit him, but he didn’t want to push too hard. They sat there across from each other, knees close enough to feel the electricity and heat coming off each other, eyes locked together. Castiel was the first to break the silence, “Why did you call me Cas?” he asked bluntly.

“What? That’s not- oh, earlier? Um, well, Castiel is a bit of a mouthful and I’ve known you for most of my life now, I figured a nickname was an appropriate thing between friends.” He flashed a quick, teasing smile, threw a wink Cas’ way, and stood up to walk to the fridge for a couple beers, the tips of his ears turning red. He took one deep breath in the kitchen before heading back to the living room and sitting on the couch in front of Castiel again. He handed one of the beers to his _fairy guardian_ , who just set it on the table unopened. Dean held his own beer between his knees so he could use his good hand to unscrew the top and take a long drink. “So. Why me? What makes me worth saving?”

"It was a duty asked of me by a very dear friend who I held a great deal of respect for. Things in my realm have been, let's say turbulent, these past couple decades and many things have changed. I was demoted, would've been cast out entirely if not for my relation to the new king and queen. I am not valued as the loyal and competent soldier I was under the previous rule, and my loyalties have not exactly transferred over. Those in charge are not aware of my interactions with you, and I intend to keep it that way. As to how I know when you're in trouble. We are, in a way, linked. I have a feeling, a _sense_ , of you. I have a general awareness of your well being and can sense when you’re in danger or under stress. I’m drawn to you,” he finished simply, like he wasn’t saying things that had Dean’s heart fluttering and a blush rising up his chest and neck. Dean was dying to ask about the king and queen, figure out the whole fairy royalty thing, but his sense (or lack thereof) of self worth pushed words out of his mouth before he could start on a line of questioning.

“But why?” Dean demanded, his voice about to break, “I’m just, I’m a mechanic who barely finished high school. I’m nobody, I’m not worth-”

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel growled out, a brief wave of red bursting from his head and shoulders, “you are loyal, kind, hardworking, and above all you are righteous. To the people who love you, to your family, you are worth everything. Can you not see how important you are? Where would Sam be without you?”

Dean blushed at the earnest tone in Castiel’s voice and went quiet, dropping his eyes to the floor. He wasn’t used to being told he was needed or important and he didn’t know how to respond. He thought about arguing, but Castiel seemed really upset and he didn’t want to get into it with someone he was _finally_ getting to talk to because he had low self esteem. 

Castiel softened, gently brushing his fingertips over the bandage covering Dean’s knuckles, the hard edge dropping from his voice. “Get some rest, Dean. You’ve had a trying evening. I’ll be back tomorrow evening. Favor this hand, call into work for a couple days. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And he was gone before Dean could reach out or say anything to keep him there. 

Dean’s mind raced for a couple hours in bed as he tried to go to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about blue eyes, colorful wings, a deep voice, or the rush he felt when Castiel had gripped his wrist, the electricity that had gone through his knee when it came into contact with the fairy’s. He thought of what Castiel had said about him, and his heart stuttered when he recalled the words and the intensity with which they were said. He had never been made to feel important and while it was uncomfortable and he didn’t really know how to handle it, Dean finally drifted off in the wee hours of the morning feeling settled and happy. 

~~~

Dean woke a few short hours later to the harsh buzz of his alarm clock; shit, he had forgotten to turn it off. He groaned and rolled over to shut it off, wincing slightly as he used his bandaged hand to slap the button on top of the glowing numbers. The pain was a reminder, and the night before flooded back to him. He bolted upright, almost falling off the bed, and took a moment to untangle his legs from the sheets before staggering into the bathroom. Squinting under the bright bathroom lights, he carefully untied the bandage Castiel had wrapped around his injured hand the night before. He unwound it and made a face at the caked on, crusty green paste coating his palm. “Ylech,” he mumbled as he turned on the sink and checked to make sure the water from the tap was comfortably lukewarm, “what kind of crap did you use, Cas?” 

Dean dug around for a moment in the cabinet and pulled out his softest washcloth. He held the cloth under the running water and gingerly started to wipe at his hand, removing the green goop as gently as possible. Once it was gone pink, raw flesh was exposed on his palm. It was tender and sore, but a vast improvement from the angry, blistering mess that had been there the night before. Still, trying to handle tools or working on greasy, dirty machinery was definitely not a good idea. He went back to his bedroom to grab his cell phone off the charger so he could call Bobby, and dropped the washcloth and the bandage Cas had put on him into the hamper in the corner of his room. After just two rings a gruff voice answered, “Hey Dean, I was just heading out. Ellen is cooking up some french toast, she already has a plate set aside for me to bring you at the shop.” 

Dean smiled at the phone fondly, Ellen never passed up an opportunity to feed him or Sam, “Hey Bobby, I’m actually not going to be able to make it in today. I got the broken bracket fixed on the sign but I sprained my wrist a bit. I think I’m gonna have to rest it for a couple days so I don’t screw it up even more. The bracket on the other side broke as soon as I finished, I’ll fix that one this week, as soon as I can handle tools again.” He found himself holding his breath, waiting to be yelled at, told that he’s lazy or worthless, but Bobby didn’t even pause.

“Alright, boy, I’m glad you’re being smart about this and calling in. I’ll come drop off breakfast since it’s not exactly out of my way.”

Dean considered declining breakfast, but he knew that if he pushed it not only would he have Bobby bringing him breakfast and insisting he eat, but he’d have Ellen barging in later to check on him too, probably with lunch and dinner and she might even sit and watch him eat every bite. He would rather hang at home for the day and lay low, so he just mumbled, “Thanks, Bobby. I’ll see you soon,” and ended the call. Bobby lived about fifteen minutes away so Dean took a quick shower, put on his most comfortable pair of worn out, torn up jeans and pulled a hoodie on over his plain tee. He dug around under his bathroom sink for a couple minutes and emerged with an old ace bandage. He didn’t want Bobby looking too closely at his wrist or hand so he wrapped it up loosely and hoped that would keep any questions or inspections at bay. The bandage would also remind him to be careful with that hand, since he didn’t have any pain until he picked something up a little too carelessly using it. 

Dean glanced at the clock; he had a couple more minutes before Bobby would show up. He started the coffee pot and leaned against the kitchen counter, cradling his injured hand in his whole one. “Hey Cas,” he said softly to the empty kitchen, “I dunno what that gross crap was that you put on my hand, but it really worked. Still a little tender, but already healing up, and definitely cheaper than a hospital visit. So, uh, thanks, again. I, uh-” he paused and cleared his throat, “If you ever need anything, I mean, I know you have all these powers and you probably have your shit together, especially since you’re constantly saving my sorry ass, but, um, if there’s ever anything I can do… just ask.”

He pulled two mugs out of the cabinet- one of them a travel mug for Bobby to take to the shop- and poured the coffee right before Bobby knocked on his door. Bobby eyed his bandaged wrist for a moment but didn’t say anything, just dropped the foil-covered plate on the table and took his mug of coffee from Dean. “Get some rest, boy,” he said, adjusting the cap on his head, “take it easy, and let me know if you need me to run to the pharmacy or anything for you.” 

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand, “I’ll be fine. I’ve got some painkillers somewhere in the cabinet and plenty of ice in the freezer. I’ll be good to go in just a couple days, promise.”

“Alright,” Bobby said as he walked out the door, “don’t worry about the sign, I’m gonna go out there today with Garth and get it repaired. It’s not a job that should be done alone, ya idjit,” he finished with a pointed look at Dean.

“Yeah, yeah, lesson learned, see you later old man.” Dean closed the door behind Bobby, grabbed his mug of coffee off the counter, and sat down and the kitchen table with his laptop. Well, it used to be Sam’s laptop, but Bobby and Ellen had gotten him a new one for college, so Dean took the old one. It still worked and did the basic stuff he needed, so it was fine by him. 

He unwound the bandage to let his hand breathe and dropped it on an empty chair at the table. Then he settled in with his breakfast and his coffee, opened the internet browser, and dove into a search on fairy lore.


	4. A Mechanic and a Fairy Walk into a Diner...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean takes Cas on a date. But it's NOT a date. It's just a meal. With his friend. Fairy. Guy. Guardian. Thing. Dean just wanted some pie, ok?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a bit earlier than usual today, I had to call into work because I was up all night with a miserable baby who is still not feeling well and constantly in my arms. Thankfully one of my mom skills is typing with a child in my lap.
> 
> Thank you thank you to the lovely [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion) for fixing so many of my mistakes. This story would be a goddamn mess without you.

Dean sat hunched over the computer all day. The shadows moved across his apartment as the sun made its way west, stretching into twilight, and he was just as confused as ever. Every time he found something he thought might give him some answers, there were two other sources saying the opposite. Nothing was consistent. His hair was sticking up in disheveled tufts where he had been running his fingers through all day, and he had bags under his eyes. Dean heaved a large sigh and rested his forehead on the table. His eyes stung a bit when he closed them from prolonged staring at the computer screen, and he had a tight feeling behind his eyebrows. How did Sammy study like this all the time? He sighed again as he sat up, closed out the browser with about a dozen tabs open, and stood up to stretch his back. 

"Hello, Dean," came from directly behind him and Dean jumped, banging his knee on the table, "Goddammit Cas, what the hell?" he growled as he spun around to face the trench coat-clad fairy. "Why'd you have to sneak up on me like that? Warn a guy, huh?"

"Apologies," Castiel said in that deep voice as he stood there, arms at his sides, in Dean's personal space. Dean’s exhaustion and frustration were suddenly wiped out by the proximity of the fairy and a nervous energy replaced it. He was fidgeting; shrugging his shoulders, fingers twitching, hands trying to move towards Castiel without Dean’s permission.

“Hey man, I’m sorry,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck and staring down and his shuffling feet, “I’ve got a headache and I’m frustrated, it’s not your fault. Can I get you something? A beer? Or we could go grab a bite somewhere?” He forced himself to meet Castiel’s eyes at the end and gave a small, hopeful smile. “Actually, I’m not sure I’ve eaten anything since breakfast…” he trailed off as his stomach, on cue, gave a noisy, annoyed grumble. “Ok how about this, we head to the diner for some food and then we’ll come back here so you can go about fixing my hand. I don’t want to eat my dinner with green goop all over my hand. I mean, that stuff is effective but _gross_ , dude.”

Castiel stood in place for a long moment, eyes locked on Dean like he was analyzing something, “I suppose that could work,” he said, but didn’t make a move to leave, or to let Dean around him to exit the small kitchen.

“Alright!” Dean said excitedly, grinning and clapping Castiel on the shoulder with his good hand. He held on for just a fraction of a second too long, his body trying to push him forward into _more_ and _just hug him already_ and _kissing is probably a good idea too_ and _how are eyes even that blue_ , but then he just gently moved Castiel to the side so he could get by him and walk towards the door. “There’s a place a few blocks away that has the third best pecan pie I’ve ever tasted. My mom’s was the best, the second was this place in Georgia that just knocked it out of the park. I don’t know what they put in that crust, but man, it was just about perfect. I tried sweet talking the waitress into giving me the recipe but the old man who owned the place was not budging. I did get the waitress’s number, though,” he grinned at Castiel while his brain was telling him to _just shut up already, you idiot, stop talking, why would you say that_. He snapped his mouth shut and cleared his throat, busying himself with getting the two of them out the door and locking it behind him. He led Castiel out to his Baby and motioned for him to take the front seat while Dean slid in behind the wheel. He smiled over at Cas again, _seriously with the smiling dude, you’ve never smiled this much in your life, you look like a crazy person_ , and turned on the radio, counting on the loud music to keep him from rambling any more. 

Dean had both hands on the wheel, injured hand grasping lightly, tapping his thumbs along with the beat. He stared out the windshield and nodded his head to the music, and he definitely did not try to catch a glimpse of Cas out of the corner of his eye as he drove. Nope, didn’t look in his direction once. Didn’t think about a road trip with Cas as his passenger, exploring the country, stopping off at motels and sharing a room, seeing Cas relaxed and open in sleep, finding out if his hair was as soft as it looked... Dean had to shake himself out of that train of thought. A few short minutes later he was pulling into the parking lot of a cute little diner. Dean walked in, waved to the waitress, and made his way to a booth against the back wall. Castiel followed a bit stiffly with a tightness in his shoulders, looking around at the other patrons like he expected to be attacked. Dean slid into his seat and grabbed a menu, started reading the specials and seeing what the soup of the day was. He glanced up to ask Castiel what he wanted, but he wasn’t sitting across from him. His eyebrows furrowed and he turned to look for him, just to find that a tan trench coat clad figure was still standing directly next to Dean’s seat. He tried to hide his jump of surprise at finding the fairy in his personal space (again), and just motioned to the bench across from him. “Have a seat, Cas. You hungry? Can you have,” he lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure nobody else was in earshot, “human food? Do you eat? I read something that said fairies live on like, the energy of the universe or dewdrops or some crap. Is that true? Do you have to sleep? Can you get drunk?” 

Castiel cut off his string of questions by raising his hand in a “slow down” gesture. Dean wanted to look away, an embarrassed blush rising in his cheeks and making his freckles stand out, but his eyes were locked onto Castiel's and he couldn’t seem to break the gaze. “Yes, Dean, I eat,” Castiel started with a quirk of his lips, something that almost looked like it wanted to turn into a smile, “the food in my realm is better for me, but I can have human food, it will not make me sick. My body does require more sustenance than dewdrops and ‘universe energy’,” here he made air quotes with his fingers. “As far as sleep, I do have periods of rest, but it is not exactly sleep in the way that humans require. It could be more closely compared to what you understand as meditation. There are drinks in Eden that can cause inebriation of a fae, but our bodies metabolize human alcohol very quickly and it is, for the most part, not effective in intoxicating us.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked at Dean patiently, like he was expecting another wave of questions. 

Dean couldn’t help piping up, “Eden? Is that the name of your… city?”

“Kingdom, yes. The fairy realm is governed by a monarchy, though the current royal family is more concerned with their own personal wealth and power than the well being of their kingdom and their subjects,” he seemed to realize what he was saying and quickly changed the subject, “but that is not something to discuss over a meal. What ‘human food’ should I experience?”

Dean stared in stunned silence for a minute, mind racing, trying to absorb the answers Castiel had given him while a whole new set of questions bounced around in his skull, trying to escape through his mouth. A small breath of, “wow,” left his lips before he gave his head a sharp shake, trying to line up his thoughts, “So, uh, their burgers here are pretty good,” he finally said, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes to the menu in front of him. “Sammy likes their Asian chicken salad but he’s into that rabbit food stuff. Bobby usually gets the pot roast.” 

Castiel did that weird head tilt-squint thing that made Dean feel naked and exposed and said, “I’ll get whatever you recommend.” 

Dean actually broke into a grin at that, not a nervous crazy person grin, but a genuine smile, “Cheeseburgers it is, then.”

The waitress approached their table with two cups of ice water and a wink for Dean. “Hey Sugar, good to see you! I set aside a piece of the pecan for you soon as I saw you come in the door. What’ll you be havin’ for dinner?” 

Dean gave his best charming smile and said, “Aw, Susie, you’re too good to me. I’m gonna have the bacon cheeseburger with extra grilled onion, and a side of ranch for my fries. Cas here will have the same,” he gestured across the table. 

Susie’s eyes flitted to Castiel for a moment, her smile faltering for just a beat before it was back to its full wattage, “Of course! You boys want something to drink besides water?” 

Castiel started to shake his head and open his mouth to answer, but Dean steamrolled him. “How about you bring us some of that peach lemonade, and make sure to put aside a second piece of that pecan pie for Cas. There’s no way I’m sharing my pie,” he finished with a wink at Castiel. 

Susie looked back and forth between the two of them, smile frozen in place, before she said a quick “sure thing,” and hurried off towards the kitchen.

Dean turned back to Castiel and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and threading his fingers together in front of him. “So, what do you do besides run around saving my ass all the time? Do you have other charges? You said you were demoted, are you not a soldier anymore? Are you a,” he ran his eyes over the suit and tan trench coat, a playful tone edging its way into his voice, “fairy tax accountant?” 

Castiel must have missed the teasing tone in Dean's voice because he answered seriously, “No. I am still a soldier, I've just been assigned to a battalion that is sent to handle less desirable assignments. Many years ago I, let's say, fell out of favor. As a result, my assignments are generally mundane and not at all prestigious, but I am fortunate that I have ample free time to use at my discretion. Guardianship of you and your family is something I have done my best to continue after my demotion, though it no longer falls under the realm of my official duties.” 

Dean watched Castiel with a guarded expression, barely glancing up to nod a thank you to Susie when she brought their lemonades, then took a fortifying breath before asking something he’d been wondering about since he was seven, “What about my mom?” he said in a small voice, “Why - I mean, I don’t blame you or anything - but, could you have saved her?”

Castiel’s eyes seemed to grow deeper as he looked at Dean, and a soft wave of blue radiated from his head and shoulders, “I’m sorry Dean, I couldn’t.” He dropped his chin, shoulders hunching a bit, “I wanted to, believe me, but she- I had to protect you and Sam. I wish I could’ve done more. I’m so sorry. I have no greater regret in my life than that day, when I failed my kingdom and my friend.” 

The blue aura grew deeper and he sounded so desolate, so regretful, that Dean instinctively reached out for his hands across the table. “Hey, no, Cas I’m sorry I brought it up. I know you saved me and Sammy that night, hell, more than just that night. I owe you everything. You’ve been an awesome guardian. I know you did everything you could.” Dean’s thumbs were rubbing small, comforting circles on the backs of Castiel’s hands, trying to tell him things Dean didn’t understand and couldn’t put into words. 

Castiel slowly brought his eyes up to meet Dean’s, a small, grateful smile barely touching the corners of his mouth. “Thank you, Dean,” he said in his soft baritone. “I really liked your mother. She was a good woman, a kind and loving mother. I wish things had worked out differently.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, he didn’t know what it was going to be - his brain was bypassing his filter and going straight into something that was almost definitely going to embarrass him - when he was saved by dinner. Susie bounced up to their table brightly with a plate in either hand, her eyes zeroing in on their clasped hands on top of the table. Dean looked at her face, then down to his hands, and yanked them back with a nervous laugh, “Oh good, thank you Susie, I’m starving!” He unconsciously wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans while Susie set their plates down. 

Once she left, Dean dove straight into his burger. He couldn’t say something stupid if his mouth was full, right? Castiel looked apprehensively at his plate for a moment before gingerly picking up his burger and taking a small bite. Dean almost choked on his food when Castiel let out a moan, humming around his bite of burger.

“Wow, this is- I mean- this makes me very happy,” he sputtered out before smiling (an actual smile with his whole face, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching) and taking another bite, much more enthusiastic this time. 

Dean felt a rush of fondness for this strange fairy, someone he had known his whole life but at the same time knew almost nothing about. He smiled across the table at Castiel, then went about eating his own food. Castiel enjoyed the fries, but liked to dip them in ketchup rather than the ranch Dean favored. They ate in companionable silence, both enjoying the reprieve from the heavy conversation they had been having earlier. Dean relaxed as the meal went on, his nervousness fading, and he was enjoying spending time with Castiel. 

Dean’s face lit up when Susie walked out with their pie and he didn’t even touch his own slice until he had watched Castiel take his first bite. “Right? Right? Isn’t it amazing?” 

Castiel just nodded and said, “It’s quite good, I can see why you enjoy it.” Dean gave him a funny look- he had been expecting a more enthusiastic response to the third best pecan pie he’d ever tasted- but Castiel just shrugged. “It’s delicious, and very sweet. The cinnamon adds a depth that is enjoyable, but I find that I prefer the savory burger.”

Dean look shocked, “Dude, you can’t compare pie and burgers. They’re two completely different courses,” he was gesturing with his fork. “Yeah, the burger was awesome. But the pie is its own experience, to add to the awesomeness of the burger, not to compete with it.” 

Castiel looked confused, but nodded and said, “I understand. Thank you for clarifying.” 

Dean just shook his head and huffed out a small laugh before turning back to his own pie. When he was finished he noticed that Castiel was done, but had left a large chunk of the pie crust, still gooey with filling sitting on his plate. Dean shook his head and grumbled something under his breath about the underappreciation of the pecan pie experience, then scooped up the rest of Castiel’s pie and shoved it in his own mouth. He threw a few bills on the table, enough for their meal plus a generous tip, and jerked his head toward the door to indicate Castiel to follow him out to his car. 

Once they were settled in the Impala, Dean turned the radio down to the level of comfortable background noise and pulled out of the parking lot. “Let’s get back to my place, huh?” He let out a choked grunt once he realized what he had just said, and words started falling out of his mouth. “Uh, you know, for my hand or whatever. Because… that’s where… you know, for healing… and your green goo…” he trailed off in mortification, a blush covering his whole face. 

Castiel didn’t seem to notice and nodded, “Yes, that’s a good idea. I’m pleased with how well your hand is doing, you should be able to work the day after tomorrow. Thank you for dinner, you didn’t have to take me.” 

Dean shrugged and his head bounced in an attempted “it was nothing” gesture. “It was the least I could do. I can’t believe you haven’t had burgers or pie before. That’s just sad, man.” 

Castiel responded in his usual literal manner. “I haven’t spent extended amounts of time in your realm, and eating here has just never come up. I didn’t know your food could taste like that, I would like to experience more of it.” 

Dean couldn’t stop a bright smile at that, the suggestion that Castiel would be spending more time here. “You just stick with me," he said, nudging Castiel's shoulder with his fist, "I’ll show you all the best stuff about the human realm."

~~~


	5. Dean is a Man of Many Talents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean acts like a chick getting ready for a date. Even though he's _not_ a chick. And it's **not** a date, he just wants to say thank you to Cas and introduce him to some more human food, that's all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a mess until the lovely [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion) came in and cleaned it up for me - any remaining mistakes are all me. 
> 
> Happy Wednesday!

Faced with another day at home, Dean slept in (he remembered to turn off his alarm this time). He padded into the bathroom, cleaning off Castiel's poultice and smiling at his palm which looked almost normal, just slightly pink. One more night of that goo on his hand and he'd be good as new. He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Bobby, telling him he'd see him in the shop the next morning so Bobby could line up some projects for him. Restorations, difficult diagnoses, and muscle cars were usually sent Dean's way; he enjoyed them the most and he was the best at them. The less experienced mechanics could handle all of the routine oil changes, brake work, and tire rotations that came in. 

He flipped through channels for a while, but daytime tv didn't have anything to pique his interest. Dr. Sexy wasn’t even on. He made himself some coffee and rummaged in the kitchen for a bit when he came across his battered recipe binder. It had magazine clippings, photocopies from cookbooks he’d found in the library, and printed recipes from online. In the very front, carefully kept in page protectors, were a few prized handwritten recipe cards that had been his mother's. He grinned, and jotted down a hurried list before he grabbed his keys and headed out to the grocery store. 

Dean came home about an hour later with ingredients for a pot roast dinner and everything he needed to make his mom's apple pie. He stuck the container of vanilla ice cream in the freezer and prepped dinner. It came together quickly, beef with herbs and veggies in a roasting pan topped with a basic sauce - that he made from scratch, _thankyouverymuch_. He put it in the oven to cook slowly for a few hours, and his mouth watered just thinking about what he knew would result in a flavorful, tender roast. He had considered making rolls to go with dinner, standing indecisively in the middle of the baking aisle like an idiot while he considered it, but in the end he figured that his kitchen was small and his oven was smaller, and he just didn’t have the time or space for rolls from scratch, so he had picked up a package of pre-made ones at the store’s bakery instead. It would be fine; they were soft and delicious and would be perfect for sopping up the sauce from the roast.

After he finished everything he had to do for the roast, he propped up the binder on the counter and got to work on his pie. First he put together the pie crust, which was a super secret recipe, perfectly buttery and flaky but not too sweet and _nobody_ ever got their hands on that recipe card but Dean himself. It was a Mary Winchester exclusive and Dean, in all his travels and trying of pies, had never found another crust to measure up. He peeled and sliced a couple different apple varieties, tossed them with lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar. He spooned everything into the pie crust, sprinkled cubes of butter on top of the filling, and then took his time weaving a lattice pattern of crust on top. Dean found himself soothed by the careful handling of the delicate crust- it held all of his focus and didn’t leave any room for the anxious thoughts that liked to poke at his brain when he wasn’t expecting them. Once he had a picture-perfect pie assembled, he moved the roast aside to make room in the oven and nestled the pie tin next to it. He set the timer, cleaned up the kitchen, and tried again to watch tv. 

Dean's knees were bouncing and his fingers were tapping on the thighs of his jeans. He kept glancing at the clock and wondering when Castiel would show up tonight. After just a couple minutes of _not_ watching tv on the couch he stood back up and started wandering around his apartment. He kept his place pretty neat, not too much stuff to clutter things up, but he picked up trash that missed the can, straightened his vinyl collection on the bookshelf, and wiped down the table and counters again. He even made his bed. His mind wouldn't stop racing, 

_God, Dean why are you making your bed? He won't even be in that room. Will he? No, absolutely not, stop it! Are fairies allergic to anything? He ate everything yesterday, it should be fine. What if he doesn't like apple pie? No, it's Mom's recipe, of course he will. Why are you freaking out? Get it together, Winchester._

He put some music on the record player and hummed along to Metallica and let the music calm him down. He swayed his hips to the beat while he swept his kitchen floor and swapped out the hand towel hanging from the handle of the oven for a clean one, and put the other (not even all that dirty) one into the laundry hamper. He stared at his newly made bed for a moment and considered changing the sheets, but shut down that train of thought real quick. 

Soon enough he pulled the pie out of the oven and set it aside to cool, covered it with a clean dish cloth, then turned the temperature down to finish the roast. He drank a beer while he waited and it helped a little with his nerves, so he had a second, then cut himself off. Castiel couldn't get drunk and Dean was already making an idiot of himself every time he saw the fairy, he needed to at least try and keep his wits about him. He heaved a deep sigh and realized the beers had gone straight to his bladder. In the bathroom he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There was flour on the crotch of his jeans where he had leaned up to the counter during pie-making, and he had a smear of cinnamon and- butter?- above his eyebrow. When he raised his hand to wipe it away he saw some of his roast sauce on his forearm. He groaned and decided he may as well just shower so he didn't miss any random food smears somewhere and embarrass himself. Well, embarrass himself more than usual around Cas, anyways. Dean took a quick shower, shaved, and spent a little too long picking out his clothes _quit acting like a girl, this isn't a date._ He settled on dark pair of jeans with no holes, his soft Zepplin tee and a green plaid shirt that may or may not have brought out his eyes. Not the he thought about lame stuff like that. He decided to stay barefoot and padded back out to the kitchen. 

Dean checked the timer for the roast, looked around his empty apartment for anything else he could straighten up, and after finding nothing said out loud, "Ah, hey Cas, I know you don't usually show up until later but it'd be great if you could get here in, say," another glance at the time, "an hour? I've got something I think you'll like. Some good old fashioned comfort foo- Jesus!” Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. Castiel was there in the room - same suit, same tie, same trenchcoat, same, “Hello, Dean.” 

“Oh. Um. Hi. Here you are…” Dean glanced towards the kitchen. “We’ve got a while until food is ready, but that’s ok. So…” Small talk was not a part of his plans for the evening, he was supposed to have something to do with himself while he interacted with Cas. His mind raced frantically for something to fill the time that wouldn’t result in Dean blurting out something stupid. 

_Well, may as well show him the apartment, who knows how different it is from the fairy realm. At least my bed is neat._

Dean gestured around his apartment. “Ok so I know you’ve been here before but here’s the ten cent tour,” he led Castiel around the space, pointing as he spoke. “Kitchen is that way, table in there for eating since I don’t have space for a real dining room - group dinners are at the Roadhouse or Bobby’s house, so I don’t need much space for just me. Um, couch, tv, record player, all in the living room, then down the hallway back here is my bedroom and the bathroom, if you need it. Wait, do you need it? Do fairies pee?”

Castiel chuckled, but completely ignored Dean’s question, which was probably actually for the best. “You have a lovely home, Dean. Thank you for inviting me, these circumstances are preferable to the previous times I’ve been here.”

Dean couldn’t help but blush, quick, _emergency subject change._ He looked around his spotless apartment, and his eyes landed on the laptop that he had been using for research. He thought about all the scattered information that he had read through, and blurted out the first thing that popped in his head. “Hey, so is it true that you’re allergic to iron?”

Cas blinked for a moment before answering, “No, iron in particular is not one of my vulnerabilities. Actually, soldiers in Eden carry blades imbued with magic,” Dean gasped as a long, gleaming silver blade materialized suddenly in Castiel’s hand. “We can be injured by mundane weapons, but to cause real damage or kill a fae, Eden blades are the best way to go.” The blade vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“That’s amazing. Can you bring it back? Can I see it? Can I hold it?”` Cas chuckled and produced the blade once again, deftly flipping it to present it handle-side first to Dean. Dean took it with a look of awe on his face, and tested the weight of the blade in his palm. He did a couple quick jabs and thrusts, flipping the blade back and forth a few times as he changed direction of his practice strikes. Castiel raised an impressed eyebrow at Dean’s skill with the weapon. Dean shrugged in response, “My old man wasn’t completely useless. I know how to handle myself.”

“Perhaps we could spar sometime, I find myself without much activity recently. It would be beneficial to keep up some training. I already know all the moves of the soldiers in my unit.”

Dean grinned. “Hell yes! That would be awesome! There’s not much room here, and food will be ready soon, but yeah just let me know, dude. Anytime.”

Castiel smiled and held out his hand. “Yes, another time. My blade, please?”

Dean startled a bit. “Oh, sorry,” he said, and handed the blade back to Castiel. It vanished almost as soon as it was in the fairy’s hand. They stood there, quiet once again, and Dean didn’t know how Cas could stand these drawn out silences, he felt clumsy and awkward. He wished for dinner to be ready soon.


	6. Dean Woos a Fairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel gets to try more human food, made by his favorite human. And maybe there's a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion) for editing this for me even though you're so crazy busy and have your own stuff to deal with on top of cleaning my mess of a chapter. You are the best cheerleader ever, and you make my writing way better. 
> 
> Mistakes left are mine because my poor beta is overworked and overtired.

Dean rocked back and forth on his toes a bit, not knowing how to break the silence. He slapped his palm onto his closed fist a couple times, just to make some noise, and that seemed to remind Castiel.

“Oh yes, how is your hand?”

“Oh, uh, good as new.” Dean grinned and held his hand out, which Castiel promptly took in both of his own and held close to his face, studying. Dean tried to hide the shiver that went down his spine when Castiel gently traced his fingertips across Dean’s palm with a featherlight touch. Castiel stood too close, held on for too long. Dean knew he should pull his hand back and step away, he should find something else to talk about, but his eyes were transfixed on Castiel’s lashes, the slope of his nose, his dark hair that was sticking up in unruly tufts so close to Dean’s face. Dean’s lips were parted and he felt himself leaning forward, his foot taking a small step towards Castiel. His mind was in a frenzy, _No, no this is a bad idea. You’re going to get hurt. Make a joke about something stupid. Step away. Check on the roast. Abort mission,_ but his body wasn’t listening. It was thrumming with energy, aching to close the space between them. 

He froze and his breath caught in his throat when Castiel looked up, blue eyes just inches away. Castiel didn’t startle or move back when he found Dean so close and staring, _like a total creeper, goddamn it, Winchester,_ he just squinted, little wrinkles appearing at the bridge of his nose, lips pursing, and tilted his head to the side. That made Dean lose whatever self control he was pretending he had at that point. He gasped out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and closed the gap, closing his eyes and crashing his mouth into Castiel’s. His previously injured hand was still held between them but he brought his other one up to the fairy’s neck, thumb grazing his jaw and fingertips curling around the back of his neck to pull him closer. After a moment he pulled back, but couldn’t put his hand down, couldn’t will his feet to move further away. He felt his neck and ears heating in a blush, and finally opened his eyes to look at the fairy. 

Castiel hadn’t moved except to close his eyes, which he slowly blinked open, head still tilted. Dean felt a rush of affection crash through his chest and he barely managed to get out, “Cas,” because he had no other words, no explanation or apology, just Cas. 

Dean waited, his wide green eyes glued to Castiel’s face, watching for the disgust or rejection he knew was coming and his brain just wouldn’t shut up, panic working quickly to overcome the warmth in his chest. _Goddamn it, so stupid. Now he’s going to leave and you’ll never see him again. Why did you have to do that? What makes you think he’d want you? The first time in your whole freaking miserable life that you have someone outside family who gives a shit about you and you screw it up by getting too attached. I can’t believe-_ his thoughts were interrupted when Castiel dropped his hand and straightened up. 

Dean felt like he had been punched in the gut. He had known this was coming, knew that rejection was the only outcome, but there had been a small morsel of hope that had been hanging on; in that moment, that movement, it was crushed. Dean started to move his hand away from Castiel’s neck but he was stopped when Castiel grabbed his wrist, holding him there. He breathed out a ragged “Dean,” and this time it was Cas who closed the gap, holding Dean’s wrist with one hand and wrapping the other around his waist to pull him closer. 

It took Dean a second to catch up, he had been so ready for rejection, but his body caught on quickly and it was a flurry of hands and lips, grasping for purchase, trying to be _closer_. After a few minutes (few hours? few days?) that left them both breathless, they finally pulled apart and dropped their hands. Dean blinked his eyes open and thought he saw a soft, bright pink glow around Castiel. He couldn’t bear to lose all contact so he grabbed Castiel’s hands in his own, threading their fingers together between them. He felt the giddy, stupid grin on his face but he didn’t even try and stop it. 

Castiel cleared his throat and started, “That was-” before he was interrupted by a shrill beeping noise. 

Dean jumped, snatching his hands back, “The roast!” and raced towards the kitchen. He donned his rooster shaped potholders - Sam had gotten them for Dean as a housewarming gift, delivered with a joke about hot cocks - and lifted the roast out of the oven, setting it down on the empty stove burner. He shut the oven door with his knee and turned to Castiel, arms wide and a proud smile on his face. “Smell that? That’s dinner, and it’s going to blow your mind.” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow, eyes looking to the stove and then to Dean’s rooster-clad hands and deadpanned, “I think our previous activity would be better suited to that task.”

Dean felt his jaw drop before he let out a bright, loud laugh and strode over to Castiel to wrap him in a hug. “You’re awesome,” he said, and pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But seriously, you’ve gotta try this roast. Go ahead and sit at the table, what do you want to drink?”

Castiel gave Dean a genuine smile that crinkled his eyes and moved to the table. He sat in one of the seats, adjusting his trench coat, and looked to Dean at the stove. “I’d enjoy a nectar beverage, if you have one.”

Dean opened his fridge and looked around helplessly. Beer, water, some milk that may or may not be expired, “Uh, I have orange juice? Would that work?”

Castiel nodded and said, “That will suffice. Thank you, Dean.”

~~~

Dean served both of their plates with a generous helping of the roast and veggies and set them on the table, along with the basket of rolls- Hawaiian rolls were the best, Dean didn’t feel at all guilty for cheating on the bread when the rest of the meal was from scratch. He went to the fridge and poured orange juice for Castiel and got some ice water for himself before moving to sit down in the chair right next to Castiel, _it doesn’t mean anything this is where I always sit at the table it’s not my fault he chose that seat whatever it’s fine,_ and grinned at him. “Alright, man, dig in. You’re gonna love this,” he said as he assembled his first bite. A perfect ratio of meat, carrot, and potato with a small sliver of onion all coated in the sauce. Dean didn’t want to brag or anything, but _damn_. 

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he kept his head down and made small, happy noises as he ate. Dean felt a swell of pride and affection and turned to his own dinner. They ate in companionable silence and if Dean’s knee _maybe accidentally_ rested against Castiel’s under the table, well that was neither here nor there. They were two grown ass men and the table wasn’t very big, there wasn’t a ton of space underneath. Yeah. Dean finished his food before Castiel, his shovel-everything-in-before-it-runs-off-the-plate method quicker than Castiel’s more methodical eating. He couldn’t seem to sit still so he bounced out of his chair and started putting the leftover roast away, then moved on to wash the dinner dishes. He picked up Castiel’s plate as soon as he was done eating and washed that too, then turned back to the fairy with a small smile.

“What did you think? Still liking human food?”

Castiel nodded and stood up, rounding the table to mirror Dean’s posture and lean against the counter opposite him, “Yes Dean, thank you, it was quite delicious. I find that I’m quite fond of the food here.”

“Maybe you should spend some more time here,” Dean ventured, glancing up from the floor to risk a glance at Castiel’s face, “I mean,” _don’t say anything stupid Dean come on,_ “I like you.” _oh crap, oh crap, what the hell was that? Idiot._ “Uh, I mean, it’s been fun hanging out, you know? And I don’t want to have to be in mortal danger to get you to show up.” Dean was staring at the linoleum, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and he shifted his weight restlessly. His neck and ears were bright red, and he could feel the heat of the blush spreading up his cheekbones to his hairline. 

“That sounds nice,” Castiel answered. “It may be difficult, but I would like that.”

Dean met his eyes and smiled, and they stood in silence for a few moments, staring at each other. It occurred to Dean that this was pretty weird and he should probably be uncomfortable, but he was lost in piercing blue and his mind blanked. Castiel was the one to finally break the silence. “Thank you again for dinner, Dean, I should probably be going now.”

“Wait!” Dean practically shouted, wincing at his own volume and the desperate tone in his voice, “You, uh,” he gave himself a mental shake and put on his best, most charming smile. It was time for his A-game, “you can’t leave without dessert. I made something special for you.” The covered pie was on the counter behind Castiel and Dean decided that enough was out on the table, he may as well have some fun. He crowded into Castiel’s space, leaning close. When his mouth was right next to his ear he said in a low, quiet voice, “I hope you like it, it’s a secret recipe.” He reached past Castiel and grabbed the pie, stepped back, and held the pie in front of him, pulling the towel off with a flourish. “Fresh apple pie,” he announced, and couldn’t help but feel a little smug at the way Castiel was standing with his eyes wide and his lips parted, obviously affected by Dean’s proximity. He may have been flustered around Castiel most of the time, but Dean Winchester had some moves. He threw Castiel a wink and set the pie on the table before getting the ice cream out of the freezer. After another minute of activity where Dean got plates and utensils out and onto the table he looked at the trenchcoat-clad fairy again, smiling when he saw that he was in the same exact place. “Have a seat Cas. I slaved over this today, everything from scratch, so you’d better like it.” His brain was finally relaxing a bit. _Yeah, this is better, we can do cocky. Just keep your foot out of your mouth._

Castiel took his previous seat at the table as Dean served them both a large slice of pie with a scoop of ice cream nestled next to it on the plate. Castiel squinted at his pie. “This is also pie? It looks quite different. And what is this?” he gestured at the ice cream with his spoon.

Dean was thrown for a moment. _How can someone not know what ice cream is? Oh man I’m going to have to show him everything. I think there might be an old ice cream maker in the back of Bobby’s shed maybe I can dig that out and find a recipe… He needs to try tacos! And pizza. I could take him to that one fancy place where they make the dough and everything right in front of you. That’s a couple towns over but we could make a day of it,_ he snapped out of his daydreaming and making plans for future dates so he could answer the question. “That’s ice cream. It’s like sweetened milk that’s frozen. It’s really good.” 

Castiel poked at it a couple times with his spoon, looking unsure, and Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the spoon out of his hand. He scooped a piece of the pie, making sure to get a good chunk of apple and enough crust in there, and then added a little bit of the ice cream for a perfect bite, and held the spoon out to Castiel. “Open up,” he ordered. Castiel looked stunned but obeyed and opened his mouth, keeping his eyes locked onto Dean’s. Dean guided the spoon into his mouth, and couldn’t help but watch his lips close around the proffered bite. The pink tip of a tongue darted out after Dean pulled the spoon back, chasing a small bit of gooey filling that didn’t quite make it in his mouth. Dean was on the verge of spiraling into another daydream, one that involved far less clothes than a pizza date, when Castiel nodded and spoke. 

“I see what you mean, it is pleasant. I really enjoy this pie, it’s much better than the pecan, I think.” He picked up his spoon from the plate where Dean had put it down and dove into the rest of his dessert, humming appreciatively. This time, there was no crust or even crumb left on the plate, and his eyes wandered to the pie tin sitting in front of them on the table. 

Dean laughed and served him a second slice (Castiel declined ice cream this time) and finished his own plate. When he was done he stayed in his seat and watched Castiel eat with a small, fond smile on his face. He may have nudged his knee under the table a few times. 

Castiel was thoroughly enjoying his pie, but as he ate his brow furrowed. Dean noticed him rubbing his temple and trying to conceal a wince. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel sighed and said, “It’s nothing, Dean. Hannah is calling me back to my realm. She’s being… insistent. I have to go very soon.” He stood up on shaky legs and had to lean on the table for support, one hand cradling his head. “I’m sorry Dean, she isn’t happy that I’ve spent so much time here.” Dean insisted on packing up a third slice for Castiel to take with him before he dumped everything in the sink and turned back, putting a hand on his shoulder and stepping into his space.

“Listen, Cas, I’m sorry if I’m getting you in trouble, but I’m really glad you came today. I hope you can come back soon.” He leaned in for a chaste kiss and smiled as he straightened up. “See you around.”

And Castiel was gone.

~~~

Castiel appeared in his home in Eden and found Hannah there, glaring. She was radiating red and bristled when she saw the carefully wrapped pie in Castiel’s hands. “Castiel,” she said in a low, tightly controlled voice, “you know the risks. You know the danger you are putting yourself and Dean in by visiting. What if someone else found out? What if news got back to Zachariah or Naomi?"

“Hannah,” Castiel said, "I'm being careful. Besides, it's not like Zachariah is paying any attention to me. He demoted me as far as possible without casting me out entirely. I'm not on my uncle’s radar, and neither is Dean Winchester. I don’t even know that Zachariah is aware that Mary ever had children, there is nothing to rouse suspicion."

Hannah sighed, frustrated. "Castiel, you cannot be in the human realm, spending time and forming a relationship with the one person who could take Zachariah’s crown from him. The heir of the Campbell line is the biggest threat to Zachariah's rule, and you are breaking bread with him!" she ended shrilly, gesturing to the pie in Castiel's hands.

"Mary Campbell was my princess and my friend. I cannot turn my back on her only remaining family. Dean is the rightful king-"

" _Treason!_ " Hannah hissed, eyes flitting around his small abode as if expecting a unit of armed guards to materialize out of the walls to arrest them. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed? Your relation to the king may have saved you from death or exile after he acquired the throne from the Campbells-"

"Assassinated them, you mean," Castiel interrupted.

Hannah glared at him and continued, "Your lineage may have saved you once, but breathe a word of those thoughts around the wrong person and you'll lose your head."

Castiel was opening his mouth to argue further when Hannah pulled him into a hug. "I worry, cousin. I admire your loyalty and your conviction, but you are playing with fire."

Castiel sighed. “Thank you for your concern, Hannah. I will lay low and stay out of the human realm.”


	7. Talk of the Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is wondering about the mysterious Cas, and Dean feels like a ditched prom date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting early this week because I'm leaving tonight for vacation! So yay.
> 
> Once again [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion) was my brillian beta and she's awesome

Dean was worried about Castiel; his sudden exit made Dean uneasy. Was it something Dean had done? He cleaned the kitchen with a pensive frown on his face. His hand was almost completely healed; he'd be able to work tomorrow, even if it might be a little tender without the aid of Castiel's poultice to finish the mending process tonight. He rubbed his thumb absently over his palm, the skin damp and soft from having his hands in the dishwater. He ran the evening through his mind again and again - maybe he was too forward, letting his mouth run away from him. But it seemed ok, Castiel hadn’t drawn back after Dean blurted out that he liked him. 

He was going to give himself a headache, thinking himself in circles like this. 

He made his way to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, tossed his clothes in the hamper, and padded into his bedroom wearing boxer briefs and a t-shirt. There was a small package resting on his pillow. He picked apart the twine knot and found a blob of the poultice herbs wrapped in oiled cloth, along with a note written in a cramped, sharp script:

_Dean,_

_I apologize for my abrupt departure from your home. I did not want to leave, but I unfortunately had no choice. It may be difficult for me to return to your realm in the future, but I will make every effort to see you again. I have left one last treatment for your injured hand; I expect you will be back at work tomorrow. Stay safe._

_Yours, Castiel_

Dean's eye clung to the closing, the frank and simple "yours" that Castiel had chosen to sign off with, like it was just that easy. It wasn't exactly a poetic, flowery love note, but that one word had made something swell in Dean's chest. He was blushing; he could feel the heat on his neck and face. It was startling how easily Castiel could throw him off balance like this. Every interaction with the guy had changed Dean's life. It was big and terrifying and exciting.

Dean wrapped his hand carefully (it was much sloppier and less secure than what Castiel had done, but we was working one handed here) and tucked the note into the corner of his nightstand drawer - _like a lovesick teenager_ \- and settled into bed. As he lay in bed, he was glad he'd picked up his room and made his bed after all, because it turned out that Castiel had gone in here, even if it hadn’t been with Dean. One final thought came to him as he drifted towards sleep - for all the letters and pictures that Dean had made for Castiel as a kid, this was the first time he had received a memento of his own. He fell asleep with a small, secret smile on his face.

~~~

Dean woke early the next morning and washed his hand. His injured palm was good as new, not so much as a scar. He smiled as he tossed the wadded up bandage in the trash. He rubbed his hands over his face; he had just showered and shaved before his not-date with Cas yesterday, so he figured he'd be fine sporting a little stubble today. He pulled on his jumpsuit and went into the kitchen to make coffee. He put an extra scoop of the dark roast beans in his French press because Bobby liked his coffee "black as sin and hot as hell." Dean filled two mugs and twisted their lids securely on. Half of his tupperware (ok maybe 90%) was from Bobby and Ellen’s kitchen, and Dean was fairly certain that if he excavated the old man’s office he’d find a good half dozen of his own travel mugs. He made a mental note to try and hunt down a few later so he could get them washed - he was tired of buying more. He considered bringing up the idea of ordering some good spill proof mugs with the Singer and Son’s logo on them.

Dean made his way downstairs, set one of the coffees on Bobby’s desk, and went to the front counter of the auto shop to look at the day’s schedule. Four oil changes, a couple sets of brakes, a set of new tires, and a transmission overhaul. He smiled; he knew which one he’d be taking today. He liked the more complex projects, where he got to immerse himself in the machine, really get to figure out its heartbeat, diagnose it, fix it. The rest of the world fell away when he was in an engine, unraveling the puzzle. He saw that the transmission job would be coming in around 9:30, so he went about gathering the tools and parts he’d need, and taking care of any tasks or tidying he found around the shop that would help the day run more smoothly.

Over the next hour, his co-workers made their way into the shop for the day. The first to arrive, not long after Dean, was Bobby. He grunted a hello to Dean as he made his way to his office, and then made a pleased sound upon finding the hot coffee on his desk (Dean was fluent in Bobby’s grunts and growls). He stepped back out into the shop with his mug and leant against a work bench near where Dean was organizing his tool tray.

“Thanks for the coffee, boy. How’s the wrist?”

“Wrist?” Dean asked dumbly, “Oh yeah, wrist. That I hurt. It’s good. Fine. Hundred percent,” he nodded down at the wrench in his hand, begging himself to just stop talking already, “Yep. Just great. Awesome.”

Bobby stayed silent, sipping his coffee and watching Dean with narrowed eyes. Dean cleared his throat, “Uh yeah, so I’m taking the transmission today, already put my dibs on the board,” he jutted his thumb towards the whiteboard chart hanging on the wall behind him that organized the jobs and responsibilities for the day.

Bobby just nodded and turned away, walking back into his office. Right before he crossed the threshold he paused and called back, “Why don’t you bring your boyfriend around for dinner? Ellen would love to meet him.” The gruff old man chuckled at the sound of a full tray of tools clattering to the ground. A couple seconds later, a red-faced Dean skidded into the doorway of his office.

“What the hell, Bobby?” he asked, way more loudly than he’d intended, green eyes wide and wild.

Bobby laughed again, glad that he and Dean were the only ones in the shop so he could give his pseudo-son a hard time. “Last night Ellen got a call from Becky who heard from Susie down at the diner that you were holding hands and sharing your pie with some fella. I believe the words ‘dreamy’ and ‘blue eyed angel’ were thrown around.”

Dean scoffed, trying to play it cool as he scrambled for an explanation. “Ok first of all, I don’t share pie. Cas got his own piece. And the hand holding, it’s not - we’re not - it just wasn’t, ok, Bobby? So just, drop it. And tell everyone in this goddamn town to stop gossiping about me or I’ll have to move to a big city where the freaking waitresses doesn’t go tattling to my mom every time I eat with somebody.”

Bobby nodded, “His name is Cas, huh?” he asked, hiding a twitch of a smile in his beard.

Dean threw his hands in the air and stomped out of Bobby’s office, grumbling and cursing under his breath as he picked up the spilled tools and started putting his work tray back together.

~~~

Ellen came out to the shop with burgers for everyone for lunch. She came once a week, and it was Dean’s favorite day. Nothing beat Aunt Ellen’s bacon cheeseburger, and she always gave Dean an extra large serving of chili cheese fries on the side. He thanked her with a kiss to her cheek and took his lunch out back. He put a shop towel on the ground and sat to eat in a little piece of shaded grass; he didn’t feel like sitting in the cramped break room with everyone else. After inhaling his burger, he called Sam to check in while he worked on his fries. Sam answered with a, “Hey, Dean,” after a couple rings.

“Hey Sammy, I didn’t expect you to answer. I was just gonna leave a voicemail, say hey.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed into the receiver, “this time difference sucks. But I’m in between classes, walking across campus right now. What’s up?”

“Nothin’ much. It’s burger day, I’m sitting out on the grass eating. How are you? You good on money?” He poked at his fries and started crunching numbers in his head, trying to calculate how much he could spare to send Sam.

“Yes Dean, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it,” Sam sounded annoyed for a second. His voice changed, moved over to amused. “What about you? I heard something about a, what was it, dreamboat in a trench coat? Word is you were getting cozy over pie at the diner.”

Dean growled, “Goddamn it! Who have you been talking to? Why can’t anyone mind their own goddamn business?”

Sam laughed outright. “Jo called me. She was talking to Mark, the produce delivery guy, and he said that Martha was talking about it when he delivered to the diner this morning.”

“Martha didn’t even see us!” Dean said, frustrated. “It was just Susie. This is ridiculous. I ate dinner with someone. That’s it. End of story.”

“Well who was it?” Sam asked

“Just a friend,” Dean said, “he’s uh, not local. He was in town so we grabbed dinner. Then he left. End of story. Tell me about school, Elle Woods, any professors offering better grades for some favors?”

Sam laughed, “Graceful subject change there, Dean. No creepy professors but the bend and snap got me a free muffin from the coffee shop! But yeah I mean, it’s hard, I’m working my ass off, but it’s also really interesting and fascinating. I just - Dean, you have no idea how much it means to me to have your support. I don’t say it enough, but thank you. I couldn’t have done any of this without you having my back.”

Dean cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes shut against the threat of tears. “Alright Samantha, that’s enough. I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you next week, okay? Love you, bitch.”

“Love you too, jerk. Talk to you soon.” They ended the call and Dean just stared at his phone for a moment before giving himself a mental shake and heading back into the shop to work. He had to work really hard to keep a smile off his face.

~~~

Weeks passed without any word from Castiel. Dean’s good feeling about their not-date faded the longer he went without hearing from the fairy. He ran that evening through his mind obsessively; going over everything he said and did, trying to figure out where he screwed it up. Castiel had said that he was being called back, maybe it was an emergency. Serious fairy business. Cas seemed like he was having a good time, but maybe he was just being nice and didn’t know how to tell Dean he wasn’t interested. Maybe he was in trouble in his realm. Maybe he was just sick of Dean. 

~~~

“What crawled up your ass and died, boy?” Bobby growled at Dean after he distractedly tipped over a pan of dirty oil and followed it up with a loud and colorful string of curses.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Dean muttered petulantly, “it’s just that someone left this goddamn oil pan in the middle of the floor, what kind of place are we running here?” He let out a yelp as Bobby suddenly grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him into the office, kicking the door shut behind them. “What the hell, Bobby?” he sputtered, yanking his jumpsuit back into place on his shoulders. “I need to go clean up that mess before someone slips in oil.”

“Someone’ll take care of it. Cut the crap. Something’s up with you, tell me what it is.” Dean opened his mouth to argue, and Bobby cut him off before he had the chance, “You’re the one who changed the oil on that Camry this morning. You left the pan there. Now where is your head? What, did your boyfriend break up with you?”

Dean scoffed, but the way he kept his eyes on his grimy boots instead of meeting Bobby’s eyes told the old man everything he needed to know. “Aw hell, Dean -”

“No, Bobby, it’s not like that,” Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Ok first off, he’s not my boyfriend, he’s just a - a guy, ok? And we’re friends, but maybe not anymore? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Bobby mumbled. “Listen Dean, I don’t care if you wanna pine after this boy or never talk to him again, I just want you to do what will make you happy. But pull yourself together or I’ll have to send you home. I can’t have you working with tools and machinery if you’re head’s not in it.”

“No, no. I can work,” Dean said, looking appropriately chastised. “Sorry,” he slipped in at the end, barely loud enough for Bobby to hear. Bobby nodded and clapped Dean on the shoulder as he walked past him and out of the office. He closed the door behind him to give Dean a moment alone to get himself together. If Dean’s eyes were red and burning with frustrated tears he wouldn’t let fall, well, nobody needed to know.

~~~


	8. Dean Totally Gets it Together... Except Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes bad decisions, and meets Castiel's brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! My beta was crazy busy this week and wasn't able to get to this. I did my best to go through it and clean it up, but I probably missed a few things. Enjoy!

A couple weeks after Bobby called him out, Dean was back to normal. Well, he was working hard to appear normal, and that was almost as good. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? He was going through the motions at work, smiling at customers, calling Sammy once a week, stopping by the Roadhouse for a beer, teasing Jo, kicking Ash’s ass at pool, all of the typical Dean Winchester behaviors. As far as anyone knew, he was fine.

Everything just felt… off. He wasn’t jumping on the complicated cases at work, content to zone out and just handle the routine stuff. His smiles weren’t reaching his eyes. He’d wink and flirt at the bar, but when the other person was ready to make a move and take things further he’d make an excuse and hightail it out of there. At the end of the night he was going home alone and having a few more drinks in the privacy of his apartment to take the edge off of his self loathing. 

It was Friday night; Dean was too tipsy to drive Baby, so he decided to walk the few blocks home. He impulsively stopped in at a convenience store on the way to grab a case of beer and a couple snacks to get him through the rest of his solo weekend pity party. He was staring at the cooler of ice cream, debating between Half Baked or Americone Dream. He had just pulled both flavors of ice cream out, deciding he may as well go for broke, when he heard shouting at the front of the store. 

He rounded the aisle to see a man holding a gun to the cashier behind the register. The cashier was shaking, trying to open the register, but she kept fumbling. The thin, pale, dirty guy holding the gun was waving the weapon at her, yelling at her to hurry up.

Dean was just drunk enough to make a really dumb decision right then. 

He moved slowly, the exaggerated careful motions of an intoxicated person trying to be stealthy, and set the case of beer on the floor. Neither person involved in the holdup had noticed him yet; Dean straightened and pulled his arm back, and threw a pint of ice cream at the gunman. Even drunk, Dean had good aim, and the ice cream landed solidly on the man’s shoulder, causing the lid to fly off and the carton to buckle. The gunman whipped around, letting out a “What the fuck -” as cold ice cream splattered his face and dripped down his neck. 

As soon as his attention was pulled away, the cashier dove towards the back room, all but falling through the small door and closing it behind her. Dean really hoped she had triggered an alarm or had a phone to call 911, the police would be really convenient right about now. The guy bared his teeth at Dean, “Ice cream? Really, dude?”

Dean shrugged dumbly and put his fists up like he was preparing to box. One hand was still holding the second pint of ice cream. 

The guy scoffed, “You dumb, drunk asshole, I don’t have time for this shit!” He ended on a yell, raising his gun to aim at Dean. His lips pulled back in a sneer and Dean’s brain zeroed in on his finger tightening on the trigger. Dean squeezed his eyes shut and braced for impact.

The sound of a gunshot never came. Dean opened his eyes and found himself in his living room with a short man pacing on his rug, gesturing with his hands and saying stuff like “pretty boy can’t handle his own shit,” and, “what, you think I have nothing better to do than babysit your dumb pet?” And “Cassie needs to stop getting distracted by a pair of eyes and some freckles.”

“Hey!” Dean interrupted, ok maybe a little louder than necessary, but he was still drunk and he was almost shot just now and there was a small, angry, golden eyed man in his living room, and he was confused as fuck.

The small angry man stopped mid-pace and turned to stare at Dean with wide eyes and pursed lips, hands thrown out to his sides, managing to say, “what the fuck do you want,” and, “I don’t have time for this,” and, “you’re an idiot,” all without using any words.

“What the -” Dean shook his head, willing his brain to get into gear. “Who are you? What’s going on? I mean, thanks for getting me away from the bullet and stuff but…” He didn’t really know where that sentence was going.

The strange new man heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes dramatically. Dean just barely managed to stifle a gasp when bright, golden wings appeared behind the guy’s back with a shrug of slim shoulders. 

“Ok, Ken doll, pay attention. I’m Gabriel. I’m Castiel’s big brother slash commander slash apparent errand boy, although this is a one time favor that he called in. He’s busy, can’t make it, blah blah blah, I swoop in to save the day, which is way below my pay grade, bee tee dubs, and here we are.”

Between one blink and the next Gabriel had vanished from the living room. Dean looked around dumbly, but a moment later he came sauntering out of the kitchen holding a spoon. He took the pint of ice cream that was still clutched in Dean’s hand, “Half Baked, my faaaaave,” and made himself comfortable on the couch, tossing the lid on the coffee table and digging into the ice cream. He closed his eyes and let out an obscene moan around the spoon while Dean just stood in the middle of the room and frowned at him. 

“Why are you here? Where’s Cas?” He asked, and maybe he jutted out his bottom lip a tiny bit but he was _not_ pouting.

“I told you already, Cassie is busy. He has a life, you know. Responsibilities? Better things to do than follow you around 24/7. So do I, for that matter, but I’ll let this one slide because I don’t want my baby bro mad at me if you die.” Dean continued to stand frozen, his inebriated brain struggling to process the new information. “I know I’m pretty, but you can stop staring now. I’m just gonna finish my ice cream and skedaddle.”

“My ice cream,” Dean mumbled under his breath, but he got moving. He toed off his boots and kicked them towards the front door, then shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the arm of the couch. He walked past Gabriel on his way to the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge. When he saw that it was his last one he called out, “Hey, next time magic the beer in here too, ‘kay?”

By the time he made it back into the living room, Gabriel had made it through most of the ice cream. “Do fairies not get brain freeze?” He wondered aloud, and Gabriel snorted.

“No gag reflex either,” he winked as he took a huge bite of ice cream. Dean could only stare in disgust. He sat in the armchair as far away from the fairy perched on his couch as possible and drank his beer, not knowing how to proceed. He really just wanted Gabriel gone so he could crash in bed.

“You know,” Gabriel said conversationally as he scraped the last of the ice cream from the container. “For someone who just avoided death by junkie, you’re pretty mopey there, Deano. I was expecting a little more gratitude.”

“Must be the shock,” Dean deadpanned. “I’d better go find a blanket. So uh,” he trailed off for a moment, turning nervous and timid. “Cas- Castiel, he’s um… he’s ok? I haven’t seen him for a while, he left kinda suddenly last time -”

Gabriel groaned and rolled his eyes, throwing his head back while he was at it to enhance the dramatic effect. “Ohmygod I was right you are his puppy, this is pathetic. Listen. Cassie has duties in Eden. Things he has to do, people to answer to. I know that he’s helped you out of some lingering sense of loyalty to your family, but he just feels guilty about what happened to them. You are a human in the human realm, he is a fairy in the fairy realm, and that’s the way it should be, so do everyone a favor and stop playing the damsel in distress so Cassie can move on with his life.”

Dean opened his mouth to try and argue, but Gabriel barreled on. “Nope, don’t care. Castiel might feel obligated to be your hero, but all you’ve ever done for him is create problems. Get over yourself. You don’t have anything to offer him.” With those parting words, he was gone and Dean was alone in the apartment with an empty ice cream container on his coffee table.

Forget the beer. Dean strode into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of whiskey.

~~~

Two hours later found Dean sprawled on his couch with the half-empty bottle of whisky dangerously close to slipping out of his fingers and spilling all over the floor. He was singing along - loudly and off-key - to the radio. “- _trouble when you walked in, so shame on me - OH! Oh - trouble, trouble, trouble_ -” If Dean remembered this scene the next morning, he’d be very glad his apartment was above a closed auto shop without neighbors to hear him drunkenly belting out Taylor Swift.

Twenty minutes after that, Dean had turned off the radio (this feat may have been achieved by throwing random objects at it until it fell off the small, rickety table in the corner and the plug yanked out of the wall, but he was counting it as a win) and was still sprawled on the couch - the whiskey having made it upright onto the coffee table somehow - and just stared into the middle distance, thinking a running commentary of self-loathing into the silence of his apartment.

_What did you expect? The cocker spaniel fairy was right, you’re pathetic. Should’ve known you were just a charity case. Sammy’s the smart one, the special one, the one worth anybody’s goddamn time. He isn’t a pet project, he has his shit together all on his own. So fucking stupid Dean, making this guy save you over and over and then guilting him into spending even more time with you because you’re a fucking loser. You kissed him! Just threw yourself at him like a housewife in a bad porno. He probably has a fairy girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or like, anyone who he doesn’t have to spend time with out of pity._

When Dean felt that he had properly chastised himself for being an idiot, he made to stand up so he could stagger his way to the bathroom. It didn’t count as crying if you were in the shower; it was all just water on your face. 

In his attempt to be upright, he kicked the whiskey bottle off the coffee table with a flail of uncoordinated limbs, where it flew into the corner of the nearby bookshelf and shattered. Dean let out a groan of frustration and stumbled towards the mess with the intent to clean it up. He was just bending down to grab a hunk of glass with his bare hand when he was yanked back by his shoulder, landing him flat on his ass on the floor.

“Dean,” a familiar voice growled, though he’d never heard that tone of exasperation lacing the edges of that single word coming from that voice. “I would appreciate it if you could refrain from cutting your hand open. I’ve already healed it once.” Castiel sighed and waved his hand, and the glass shards, along with the spilled whiskey, were gone.

Dean was suddenly hit with a wave of white-hot rage, fueled by his embarrassment and the betrayal he felt - and ok maybe a little bit fueled by whiskey. “Well I’m so fucking sorry to inconvenience you, Castiel. Why don’t you just vanish again and let me self destruct like that pathetic loser I am?”

“Dean what -”

“I know I’m a piece of shit, ok? You don’t owe me anything. You don’t owe my dead family anything. I am hereby releasing you from whatever guilt-driven obbig - hobble - obligation - you think you have, you can stop acting like you give a shit about me.” Dean’s words were thick with anger and alcohol and at some point during his yelling at the dude who just kept him from getting hurt again, he had managed to get upright and stepped into Castiel’s personal space, shaking and swaying on his feet. “You don’t need to pity me. I’m not your pet or your charity project - go find someone who deserves your fucking help.”

“Dean that’s not what this is -” Castiel tried to say, but Dean cut him off again with a scoff.

_He says that like there could be anything - like I could mean anything to a gorgeous guy who is literally a magical hero with wings_ , he thought to himself.

“Dean, you mean so much,” Castiel started.

_Fuck, he can read minds, too_ , Dean stared wide-eyed into Castiel’s blue eyes and panicked. _Don’t think about kissing him. Or holding his hand. Or sucking his cock. Think about… politics. Um, baseball. Vampires. Chickens… Couch._

“Well now you’re just saying random words,” Castiel said. “And you’re saying them out loud. I can’t read your mind.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, “That sounds like something a mind-reader _would_ say.” He turned and walked down the hall to his bedroom, leaning heavily on the wall for support, and ended his treacherous hallway journey sprawled diagonally on his bed with his feet kicking a pillow and his arm hanging off the foot of the bed. 

“Sorry Cas,” he mumbled into the comforter. “I can't help but fuck things up.”

~~~

Dean woke to the bright, warm light of late morning streaming in through his bedroom window. He needed a shower and some aspirin, but he was surprisingly clear headed. He groaned - partly out of pain, mostly out of mortification as the previous night’s events came flooding back.

“Hello, Dean,” came from the corner of the room, and Dean startled, turning to see Castiel sitting in the desk chair nearby.

“Were you watching me sleep, dude?” Dean asked blearily, but waved his hand in front of his face, cutting off any answer Castiel may have given. “Don’t answer that. Can you just - wait? I need a shower. Some coffee. Don’t leave?” He hated how small and needy he sounded, but he needed to clear some shit up before he undoubtedly never saw Cas again.

Castiel nodded. “I’ll wait, Dean.”

Dean showered quickly and brushed his teeth, and then followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. Castiel was seated at the kitchen table, fresh coffee was waiting in the pot. Dean poured himself a mug and sat across the table from Cas, taking a sip. He grimaced at the flavor of the bitter coffee invading the the lingering toothpaste taste in his mouth, but he ignored it to get more of the caffeinated nectar into his system. He needed it to make it through this conversation, whatever it was going to entail. 

“Before you uh, say whatever you need to say, I’m sorry for acting like an ass. I was drunk and pathetic and feeling sorry for myself, and you didn’t deserve that, man. You don’t owe me anything, I have no right to expect anything from you, whether it’s saving my ass or friendship or… anything else. So,” he took a moment to clear his throat. “I’m. Sorry.” 

Castiel just sat stiffly in his chair, staring. Dean was getting uncomfortable with the scrutiny so he shrugged and put his hands up in a, “that’s it,” gesture and kept his mouth shut before he embarrassed himself further.

After a few tense moments Castiel took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Dean,”


	9. Dean is Mia Thermopolis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets a whole lof of new information and his life spins even more thoroughly into a fairy tale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, things are getting moving now! Still and always thanks to [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion) for being the bestest beta ever.

Dean and Castiel sat across from each other at the small kitchen table. Castiel was still in his standard suit and trench coat, Dean was wearing soft, faded sweats and a plain black t shirt. Dean’s fingers fidgeted nervously around his mug of steaming black coffee as he waited for the inevitable rejection from Castiel. 

“Dean, you are aware that I knew your mother.” Dean made an affirmative noise. “That wasn’t the whole story. Before my… demotion, I was captain of the royal guard. High honors, guardian of the royal family. Mary - your mother - was my princess. And my friend.”

“No, that can’t be,” Dean said, shaking his head. This conversation was not at all what he had expected. “A princess? In your realm? She’d have to be a -”

“A fairy, yes,” Castiel finished for him.

Dean just kept shaking his head, unable to accept what Castiel was telling him. “No, that makes no sense, Cas. My mom baked pies and helped with homework, she gave me piggy back rides and sang to me when I was sick, she was a mom. A _human_ mom, not some fairy princess.”

Castiel took Dean’s hands over the kitchen table. “Please Dean, I know this is difficult. May I keep going? Let me finish, and I will answer any questions you have.” Dean nodded and Castiel continued, still holding Dean’s hands in the middle of the small kitchen table. 

“Fairies used to travel freely between realms. We had to conceal our true identities, of course, but there was a fairly open trade market between my people and some - more mystically inclined humans. Your mother loved this realm. The food, the music, the people. She even stayed here long enough to attend college at a human university, which is where she met and fell in love with your father. She decided to stay in the human realm to raise her family, and when she felt that you and your brother were old enough, she had plans to tell you of your lineage and give you a choice as to whether you’d like to live as a human or as a fairy.”

Castiel sighed and looked at their clasped hands, “Unfortunately, she never got the chance to share that with you. Your father didn’t know her true identity,” he paused, bracing himself before he continued, “or the true circumstances of her death.”

Dean’s head snapped up at that, green eyes wide with shock. In the back of his mind he noted that Castiel seemed to be outlined; a line of black appearing at the edges of his form. “What do you mean,” he asked, voice shaky and unsure. “Mom died in a car accident. I was there. _You_ were there. It was an accident, bad weather, slippery roads, an accident.”

Castiel pulled his hands back from Dean’s and dropped them to his lap so he could nervously tap his fingertips on his knees. “That, um. That is not the whole story. The crash was not an accident; it was an assassination.”

Dean shook his head and stood up from the table, his chair scraping loudly on the linoleum floor. He started pacing in the tiny kitchen. “No, no. This doesn’t make any sense, Cas! Even if any of this shit were true, even if she was royalty or whatever, she wasn’t a part of any of that!” He was pulling at his short hair, getting more and more agitated as he tried and failed to wrap his mind around the new information. “Who would do that? Who would _want_ that, she wasn’t a threat to anyone, she was - she was just -” his voice broke.

Castiel stood and held Dean by the shoulders, speaking to him quietly. “Dean, can we sit? Please,” he murmured as he led him to the couch. Dean sat down heavily and dropped his head into his hands. Castiel joined him on the couch and rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder, attempting to ground him, to get them both through the rest of what Castiel had to say.

“When I commanded the royal guard, the king of Eden was Samuel Campbell.” Recognition dawned on Dean’s face - he’d never met his grandfather, but he knew his name. “He was a great man. Fierce and intimidating, but a just ruler. Deanna, your grandmother, was kind, and strong. Like your mother. Oh, it was quite an uproar in the palace when she confronted your grandfather and told him she planned on living in the human realm permanently.” Castiel was wearing a small, reminiscing smile. “The king was furious. She was an only child, heir to the throne, and wanted to give it all up for a human,” he trailed off, lost in thought.

They sat in silence until Dean nudged Castiel’s knee with his own, pulling him back from wherever his mind had gone. He cleared his throat and continued, “Yes, apologies. So. Mary was here, not in contact with her parents except for the occasional update sent through me. There was a coup in Eden, and your grandparents were assassinated so that a fae named Zachariah could seize the throne. Your mother was, in Zachariah’s eyes, merely a loose end to be taken care of; the last of the Campbell line gone would secure him his crown. Very few in our realm knew of your and Sam’s existence, and Zachariah never thought to look for human children.”

Dean had finally calmed down enough so his emotions could allow his brain to start processing everything, but there was something in Castiel’s story that just wasn’t adding up. “Why are you telling me this?” He was searching Cas’ face as if hoping to find comprehensible explanations in the emotions the fairy allowed to cross his features. “What does it matter? Like you said, they ended the Campbell line, no fairy royalty left.” 

Castiel remained quiet and left his expression open and honest as he waited for Dean to put the pieces together. “No,” Dean said when something in his mind clicked. “ _Hell_ no, I’m a human, a human who barely finished high school - I didn’t even know my grandparents, what the hell do you think I’m gonna do? You’re out of your mind.”

Castiel nodded. “I know many fae who would agree with you. Insane, foolish, reckless, even treasonous. If my activities in this realm were discovered by the wrong fairy I would be tried and killed as a traitor. None of that changes the fact that you, Dean Winchester, are heir to the Campbell line and the rightful king. Your Majesty,” he punctuated this bombshell of an announcement by dropping to one knee on the carpet next to the couch where Dean was still seated. He pressed the knuckles of one hand into the floor and bowed his head. He made it through “I, Castiel Novak, swear fealty to you, De-” before his oath was interrupted by a loud thump. Dean had collapsed on the floor next to Castiel in a dead faint.

~~~

When Dean came to, he was once again on his bed and Castiel was once again sitting in the chair staring at him. His room was still awash with bright morning sun - he had only been out for a few minutes.

“So this is gonna be a thing? The whole watching me while I’m unconscious? I feel like I should be more weirded out,” Dean said as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“I’ve always watched over you, Dean,” Castiel stated bluntly. “It's just that most of the time you couldn’t see me there.”

“Ah, there’s the weird,” Dean retorted, but his tone was laced with amusement, not anger. “Ok listen up, Cas,” he said as he sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the side to rest his feet on the floor. “You unloaded some heavy shit on me just now. I believe you. I think. I mean, it honestly makes no sense to me but you have wings and you teleport and I’ve known you my whole life without you aging or changing at all, so. Weird shit exists, why not fairies, right? But here’s the thing. Even if what you’re saying about my family is true, you can’t be bowing or - or making oaths, or calling me ‘your majesty’ or any of that. I’m Dean. And man, I don’t know what it is that you expect me to do. Why tell me this? What do you hope to accomplish?”

Castiel spoke simply. “I want my kingdom back under the control of the Campbell line. In your control.” He held up his hand, holding off the argument Dean was about to launch into. “Listen Dean, Zachariah and Naomi don’t care about their subjects. They care about appearances, about maintaining their lifestyle in the palace. They do _nothing_ to try and improve the day to day lives of their people.The kingdom is run by their nephews, Lucifer and Michael; they’re more concerned with their rivalry than with doing anything to benefit commoners. When your grandparents ruled, Eden was prosperous. There was peace, they cared for their people. I see their strength, their compassion, their goodness in you. You may not believe yourself worthy Dean, but I know that -”

“Cas, please stop.” Dean shook his head. “I can’t. I mean, I didn’t even know about any of this, I’ve never even been there, I can’t rule. I’m a goddamn mechanic!” His hands were gesturing restlessly in the air, trying to convey what his words were failing to explain, “I’m not royalty, I don’t know shit about any of this -” Castiel reached out to grasp Dean’s wrist in mid air. As soon as he made contact, the world lurched and Dean found himself sitting on a low couch, woven out of what looked like branches and topped with bright, colorful cushions. Wide green eyes took in the airy space, the house looking like it hadn’t been built, but grown as an extension of the surrounding trees. Like the forest had decided to make a space for Castiel especially.

“Holy shit. Did I pass out again?”

“Welcome to Eden, Dean.”

Dean looked around Castiel’s home in awe; he had never seen anything like it. It looked just like he had imagined when he was in the woods as a boy, dreaming up fairy homes and alternate universes among the trees. Everything was rich browns and greens with accents of color showing up in the cushions and rugs scattered throughout the dwelling.

“I didn’t actually believe it,” Dean breathes to himself, “as much as I saw, what I thought- I didn’t realize.” He felt something settle in his chest, a piece locking into place and filling a hole he’d never realized was there. For the first time since his mom died, Dean felt at home. He felt hot tears prick his eyes and he turned to clap his hand to Castiel’s shoulder with a smile, “Tell me everything.”

~~~

By the time Castiel brought Dean back to his apartment in the human realm it was approaching three in the morning. They had spent hours talking, going over life in the fairy kingdom, Dean’s family tree (which currently consisted of just Dean and Sam), Zachariah and Naomi’s court, and they spoke at great length about Michael and Lucifer. Castiel explained how they were both ruthless and willing to take great risks with the lives and wellbeing of the soldiers who served under them and commoners alike, all in a bid to gain as much wealth and power as possible to impress their uncle and be chosen as next in line for the throne. Dean had wanted to explore, but Castiel made him stay in the house, saying it was too dangerous for a human to be seen walking around - he could be noticed by the wrong fairy. Maybe, with some more preparation and protections in place, he could take Dean around the kingdom another time.

Dean managed to toe off his boots and shimmy out of his jeans before crawling into bed and falling right asleep. It felt like every single part of him was filled to overflowing. He was comfortably warm and heavy and slept deeply. He didn’t have dreams he could follow along or identify, just colors and feelings of safety and contentment. It was the best sleep he’d had in as long as he could remember.

Dean woke to the sound of banging pots and pans coming from the kitchen, blessedly accompanied by the smell of coffee brewing. He cracked an eye open to look at the clock on his nightstand and groaned; he might claim that he could get by on four hours of sleep, but it was his weekend, damn it! Also, who the hell was in his kitchen? He tiptoed to the closet to grab the old baseball bat he kept tucked in the corner and made his way towards the intruder. He emerged from the hallway to see a tall figure with broad shoulders and too-long hair flipping pancakes at the stove.

“Sammy? What are you doing here?”


	10. Telling Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean hasn't even had a chance to process the news about his heritage when his baby brother shows up and he has to explain himself. This should go well.

“Sammy? What are you doing here?”

Sam looked over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow at Dean who was standing there in his boxers holding a baseball bat above his head. “Nice to see you too, Dean. It’s spring break, remember? We talked about this last week, my flight got in really early so I Ubered here, you said you’d make up the couch?”

Dean leaned the bat against the wall and scrubbed his hands over his hair, messing it up even more. “Yeah yeah, I had a, um, late night. Just slipped my mind.” Dean’s mind started racing - he had seen and learned so much yesterday and was on board with helping out, but what would that mean for Sam? Could Dean keep him in the dark now that he knew the truth? Could he put Sam at risk by telling him everything?

Sam smirked and startled Dean out of his thoughts with a question. “Mmmhmm. Was it Cas?”

Dean almost gave himself whiplash with how quickly his head snapped around. “What? Who? Wh- why would you ask that?”

Sam laughed like Dean was confirming everything. “Well you aren’t hungover, so someone must’ve had your attention during your ‘late night.’ And I keep hearing about this Cas…”

Dean threw his hands up in the air. “Ok I was hanging out with Cas but we were just talking, ok? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend, there’s just… a lot of shit going on where he’s from and he needed someone to talk to.”

Sam slid the last pancake onto the plate, turned the burner off, and turned around to face Dean, leaning his butt back against the counter. He looked Dean square in the eye, challenging. “Bullshit.”

“What?” Dean asked dumbly, his story was practically true, albeit with some major omissions, he hadn’t expected Sam to question it beyond his standard little brother duties of teasing.

“Dean, I know when you’re lying. And I know you wouldn’t be this cagey over a little teasing about your love life. What’s really going on? What aren’t you telling me? And I swear to God, the more you bullshit me the more ridiculous my ideas about what’s going on are going to get, and I’m going to really start freaking out.”

Dean laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Dude, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“It’s insane, Sam. Ok just, fuck. Come into the living room.” The brothers settled on the couch with plates of pancakes and bacon on the coffee table in front of them. Dean stalled by stuffing his mouth with food, washing it down with gulps of coffee. Sam watched him warily, eating his own breakfast at a more sedate pace. Once Dean’s plate was empty, he downed the rest of his coffee and moved to wipe his palms on the knees of his pants when he realized he was still in his boxers. “Pants,” he said maybe a little too loudly before scurrying back to his bedroom and shutting the door. He dug a pair of jeans out of the pile of mostly-clean stuff on the floor of his closet while he tried to think of what he was going to say to Sam. 

_So Cas is a fairy but not like in the gay-slur way but in a literal way? And so was Mom, which makes you and me also fairies-literally-not-slur-fairies. Actually, I’m the king of the fairies! And by the way, Mom was murdered and we’ve been watched over by a fairy guardian who I kissed._ He shook his head and tried to get his hands to stop shaking, then went back to the living room to face Sam.

He dropped heavily on the couch and rested his elbows on his thighs, tapping his fingers together between his wide-set knees. Without his permission, his mouth blurted out, “Cas knew Mom.”

Sam didn’t answer, just stared at Dean with his mouth agape. Dean huffed out a frustrated sigh and tried to explain. “So it turns out that Mom was- ah, ok, so you know how we never met Mom’s parents? I guess they were kinda a big deal, where they were from, and Mom was also a big deal, but she left it all behind when she met Dad because she wanted to be a… normal person. And then she wanted to raise us as people - as ordinary people, so that’s why we never got to see where Mom was from because then things would be… different.”

Sam scoffed, “Dean, Grandpa Samuel and Grandma Deanna lived in Poughkeepsie. They didn’t like Dad so that’s why we didn’t meet them in the beginning, and then they died when we were little, so we never got the chance to patch things up. You know that. I thought we were talking about Castiel? What does he have to do with our grandparents?”

Dean rubbed his hands together nervously. “Yeah Sammy, here's the thing. Mom wasn’t from New York. Shit, this is insane,” he paused to scrub his hands over his face. “I need you to listen and just - suspend your disbelief for me. Keep your mouth shut, ok?” Even though it seemed like a rhetorical question, Dean stared at Sam with slightly wild eyes and waited for an affirmative nod from him before he continued. “Just for the record, I’m not crazy - well maybe I am a little - but hold off on the straight jackets and padded rooms. Um, how do I say this? Well, magic exists, for starters. And so do creatures and stuff, like fairies, which Mom was one, and, um, Cas is a fairy, and since Mom was one you and I are like, half fairy?” 

Sam leaned forward, bitch face on and ready to say something patronizing, but Dean cut him off, pointing at him sharply. “No talking!” Dean took a deep breath and then continued in a rush, the words spilling out of him. “So Mom was a fairy from the kingdom of Eden, Grandpa Samuel was the fairy king, he and Grandma Deanna and Mom were assassinated by this asshole fairy because he wanted to steal the throne, but Cas wants to take it back to like, save the fairies of Eden from a shitty ruler, and he needs someone with a valid claim to the throne and since I’m the oldest I’m like, the Campbell heir and he wants me to help him. That’s pretty much it.” 

Sam looked stunned, unable to say anything right away, and Dean remembered something else. “Oh, also. Cas is like a fairy bodyguard and he’s been getting me - well, me and you - out of shit our whole lives and like, watching over us or whatever. Because he knew Mom.”

Sam managed to collect himself and spoke slowly and clearly, like Dean was a rabid animal that he was approaching and trying not to agitate. “Dean, you’re my big brother and I love you, but what the fuck.”

Dean blinked. “Sorry?”

“Is this a joke? Are you high? What’s actually going on? What did you do that you feel like you have to try and sell me this bullshit? You think if you give me a ridiculous enough story I’ll stop wanting to know what’s going on with you? Whatever the truth is Dean, you can tell me. Are you in trouble?”

Dean muttered under his breath. “I fucking knew it, thanks for making me look like a crazy person, Cas.” He rolled his eyes and looked at Sam, squaring his shoulders in a challenge. “Want proof? Fine. I’ve got some proof for you.” He raised his voice. “Castiel? Cas, can you pop in here for a sec?”

Sam scrunched his nose and looked around, expecting someone to come down the hallway from the bedroom, or come through the front door maybe. He yelped and almost fell off the couch when six feet of trenchcoat and messy hair suddenly appeared in the middle of the living room.

~~~

Castiel was able to confirm what Dean had told Sam, and give much better and more coherent explanations of the situation. Sam, to his credit, didn’t faint. Despite the huge hurdle of overthrowing his entire worldview, Sam handled everything impressively. He asked questions about magic - Castiel explained that it wasn’t like in books and movies; it was merely a set of abilities that the fae had that humans did not. Sam also asked about their family’s history, he was eager to know as much as he could once he came to terms with the fact that there was an entirely new universe out there that he could learn about.

It wasn’t until Sam’s stomach growled loudly that Dean realized they had missed lunch completely, and it was almost dinner time. Dean stood and waved Castiel and Sam off to sit back down when they both stopped talking to follow him. “I’ve got it, you two sit down, I’ll throw something together real quick.” 

He went into the kitchen and put both hands on the counter, hanging his head and breathing deep. “This is so fucking weird,” he whispered to the coffee maker. “What even is my life?” He stared at nothing and let his thoughts race for a few moments before he shook himself out of it and started pulling stuff out of the fridge to put together some sandwiches for the three of them.

A few minutes later, Dean made his way carefully into the living room - one hand was holding a plate piled high with sandwiches, his other had a glass filled with guava juice (ok maybe he started keeping some on hand in case Castiel came to visit), and a bag of chips held between his teeth. He set everything down on the coffee table and pulled two beers out of his pockets, handing one to Sam and cracking the other open for himself.

Sam laughed. “Dean the kitchen is like four steps away, you could’ve taken a second trip. Or, I don’t know, asked for help?”

Dean answered him with a grunt and picked up a sandwich. “There’s ham, some roast beef, some turkey. Grab whatever.”

Sam took a huge bite out of a roast beef sandwich and flipped through the notebook he had managed to acquire over the course of the day. Dean noticed Sam’s open backpack slumped on the floor, leaned up against the couch.

“Sammy, did you bring homework with you? You’re such a nerd, it’s spring break, man!”

Sam looked up from his notes, too distracted to muster up a bitch face. “Huh? Oh, I was going to do some studying but these are notes on the stuff Castiel has been telling me. Can you believe this Zachariah asshole? We have to help.”

Dean knew where Sam was coming from; he had felt the same pull to fight, to jump into the fray and help out, but at best he was a common soldier. Cas needed a leader for his revolution. Sam was a much better candidate, but Dean felt panic claw its way up his throat at the thought of Sam anywhere near the people who had already taken most of Dean’s family away from him. Dean didn’t know how to handle his fear, so naturally he acted like a dick.

“Help how, Sam? You didn’t even know that fairies existed this morning and now you wanna what, join the revolution? Are you gonna be king to an entire race of people you don’t know? Who don’t know you?”

Castiel missed the bitter sarcasm coloring Dean’s speech and interjected with a clarification. “Actually Dean, as the elder brother you are the rightful king, not Sam.”

Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. “That’s not the point, Cas! We’ve been over this already. I’m human. Sam is human. We were raised human, and even if I was willing to let Sam be put into danger like that, no way in hell is anybody in your realm going to be ok with a couple of unknown outsiders coming in to overthrow the government.”

Castiel tried to explain. “You’d be overthrowing a _tyrant_ , and you aren’t unknown, your family was well loved -”

At the same time, Sam jumped in, indignant. “Let me? Dean, I’m an adult you can’t just make decisions for me -”

They were both cut off by Dean jumping up out of his chair and thundering, “I don’t care who my grandparents were! I feel bad for you guys Cas, I really do, but I’m not dragging my baby brother into a realm where people will want him dead. This dickwad Zachariah already took my mom, which as good as took my dad away too. I’m not going to risk Sam. He’s all I’ve got.”

By the time he finished he was breathing hard, and Sam and Cas were frozen in their spots on the couch, staring. Castiel tried to reach out, but Dean shook his head and backed away. “No, I can’t. I’m going to bed. Extra blankets are in the hall closet.”

Sam and Cas stayed still until they heard Dean’s bedroom door slam shut behind him.

Castiel cleared his throat. “I should get back to Eden. I need to check in, and it may be best to give Dean some space for the time being.”

Sam nodded. “Thanks, Castiel. For everything. I’m glad I got to meet you. I’m here for a week before I have to head back to school, so come back, ok? And - I’d like to go with you, to see Eden, if that’s possible.”

Castiel stood and adjusted his trench coat. “I would like that very much, Sam. You will need to talk to Dean, but I will do my best to set up a safe, discreet visit for you both. Goodbye.”

Castiel vanished, and Sam was left alone in the living room. He grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the hall closet and settled himself on the couch with sandwiches and his notebook that was now half filled with his own history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is getting close to catching up with me as far as what I have written. In a couple weeks updates will probably get a lot less regular, but comments will encourage me! I'm over on [tumblr](http://bfab11.tumblr.com/) if you want to come say hi.


	11. Sam Learns Stuff and Dean Denies Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries to avoid his feelings. He also tries to avoid Sam. And Castiel. Basically Dean just avoids everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion) has somehow found time in her busy life to help me out and beta my story. She's awesome. This chapter doesn't have a ton of activity, but it's a setup for a lot of stuff, and some feelings happen.

Dean woke the next morning to his alarm. It was Monday, and he had work to get to. He was exhausted, having spent the night before glowering at the wall of his bedroom, unable to sleep but unwilling to reach out to Sam or Cas. Work was a pretty good excuse for him to avoid them both for a while longer, see if he could manage to make sense of any of the insane shit that had been revealed to him over the weekend. 

He kept quiet as he made his way past a sleeping Sam and into the kitchen to start the coffee. He returned to his room to pull on his work jumpsuit and put some product in his hair to keep it from being so fluffy. Then he poured two cups of coffee, one for him and one for Bobby, and slipped out of the apartment, making his way downstairs and into the shop. Hopefully working with his hands would allow his brain to quiet down enough for him to figure some shit out.

~~~

Dean managed to make it through an entire day at work without getting cornered by anyone who wanted to talk about feelings. He kept his hands moving and his head in the engines, which was exactly what he needed to feel like the world was real again.

By the end of the day he was swinging his hips and humming under his breath to the classic rock station that was spilling out of the junky old stereo in the corner of the shop, letting the music and the soothing rhythm of this work flow through his body and sweep through the jumbled mess of his thoughts and feelings, leaving behind some peace and clarity. No matter what was going on in some other realm or what had happened in the past, Dean felt anchored to the present by good music and a problem he could actually see and fix with his own two hands. 

Engines were complicated; they had a lot of parts and pieces that had to function together, and the smallest thing out of alignment could destroy an entire machine. Looking at a car as a whole, it was overwhelming. Daunting. But if someone understood the individual parts and their jobs within the whole, the problems became more manageable. It was just a matter of paying attention to details, and knowing the function of even the smallest part.

At the end of his work day, Dean went upstairs to his apartment. He felt tired out in a good way, worn out from a hard day of work. He found Sam hunched over the small kitchen table poring over a large, ancient-looking tome.

“Please tell me that’s for school,” Dean said as he crossed the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge. He braced himself. He knew it wasn’t - he could practically feel the otherworldliness rolling off the damn thing, but he didn’t want to think about what it could mean for Sam to be studying what appeared to be a big time fairy relic. 

Sam’s huff and eyeroll confirmed Dean’s suspicions. “It’s a history of Eden, including laws and requirements regarding the line of succession, the transfer of power in the case of a coup, which houses and bloodlines have claim to the throne, appropriate use of mystical powers - there’s so much information.”

“Alright, you geek, don’t hurt yourself,” Dean interrupted Sam before he went too far off on a tangent. “I don’t know why you need to know the whole history. I mean, it sucks what happened and I feel bad for what happened to those people but it’s not our concern, Sammy. You need to let it go.”

“It’s not ‘those people,’ Dean, it’s _our_ people. It’s Mom and our grandparents, half of our entire family line. How can you just ignore that? We have to do something. Castiel said -”

“Sam,” Dean cut him off again, “I don’t - what do you want here? You wanna just give up on this life? On Stanford? On everything you’ve been working so hard for?”

“I’m not ruling it out, Dean!” Sam closed the book and sat back, squaring his shoulders to face Dean fully. “Listen, we don’t have any roots, nobody who is depending on us. I mean, there’s Bobby and Ellen and Jo but they’ll be fine without us, all we have is each other. But then there’s Eden, potentially an entire realm of people who need us. Who we could _save_. We can make a real difference, Dean. That’s what I want to do with my life. I thought that I would help people by being a lawyer, but maybe I’m meant for something even bigger. Maybe both of us are. I don’t think I can turn my back on this, not when I know that people are suffering and there’s something I can do about it.”

Dean sighed from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. He didn’t raise Sam to be this goddamn noble. “It’s _dangerous_ Sam, this would be us stepping into a magical war, you realize that? I've worked my whole life to protect you, to keep you safe, I can’t just be ok with you jumping into this. It’s a big fucking deal. Don't get me wrong, I’d love to stab Zachariah in the face for what he did to Mom and our grandparents, but I’m fucking worried about you!”

Sam took a breath to brace himself and looked Dean in the eye. “Dean, I’m doing this. I _have_ to. I can feel it in my gut. I’m going to have Castiel take me to his realm so I can see things for myself, see what I can do to help. I understand if you want to move on and pretend that half of what we are just doesn’t exist or whatever, but I can’t go back. I can’t ignore this.”

Dean’s mind was racing. Of course he wanted to get involved. If not for Sam, Dean would’ve already marched into fairy court, guns blazing, to kill Zachariah. The thought of leaving Sam with nobody to take care of him was what held Dean back in the first place. As much as he was itching for a fight with the assholes who killed his mom, he had no expectation of surviving said fight, much less ruling a kingdom on the off chance he didn’t get blown into fairy dust. Dean knew he was expendable, but Sam sure as hell wasn’t.

He sighed. “Okay Sammy, if I can’t stop you I can at least have your back. I’ll come with you and Cas on your fairy field trip, we’ll check stuff out. No promises, but we can check it out. Let me make one thing clear - you are the brains _only_. You’re going to observe and learn, but at the first sign of danger you turn tail and run.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Dean. It's just a visit.”

~~~

Two days later, Dean called in to work. When he told Bobby that he wanted to take the rest of the week off to spend with Sam, he was told to have fun and that Bobby had better not catch him working until Sam was on his way back to the west coast. Dean felt guilty - technically it was true that he’d be spending time with Sam, but there was a hell of a lot of information that he was leaving out of the conversation.

While Sam prepared for the trip by lounging on the couch with the “Fairy Book,” as Dean had taken to calling it, Dean was in his room with his music up loud. He cleaned his handgun and tucked as many knives as he could conceal into his outfit, finishing with the newly polished and loaded gun at the small of his back, inside the waistband of his jeans. He wasn't going to take any chances.

He was shrugging a canvas jacket on over his layers when Cas appeared in his bedroom, standing very much inside Dean’s personal space. Dean jumped, his hand reaching for the gun at his back before his brain processed the bedhead and the coat.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Jesus, Cas, I almost shot you!” Dean tried to convince his heart to return to normal speed. 

“I wanted to speak with you alone before we travel to Eden. Dean I… I know that this has been difficult for you, a lot of information, an upheaval of your worldview. I know that it worries you for Sam to know, but I will do everything in my power to keep both of you safe, you have my word.”

Dean huffed out a bitter laugh and nodded, “Yeah, your duty to your kingdom and all that, I got it, don’t worry.” He made to leave his room, but whirled back around to release the words that had been building up in his throat. “So the whole thing where I kissed you, where we had dinner and basically were on a date, that was duty, right? You let me make a complete idiot of myself because you think I’m your king, or whatever, and you feel _obligated_? Like you can’t say no to me? Your brother made it very clear that anything between us was just guilt or pity on your part. How could you let me do that?”

“Dean,” Castiel tried to cut in, wanting to explain, but Dean had more to get out.

“Anything for the kingdom, right?” His voice was bitter and fragile. “Even offering yourself up, letting me take advantage of you to sweeten the deal. I can’t _believe_ -”

“Dean,” Castiel said more forcefully, stepping into Dean’s space, placing one hand tentatively on his hip with the other coming to rest on the side of his neck, “that’s not what it was. What it _is_. This is… so immensely out of bounds. If anyone is taking advantage of anyone, it’s the other way around. I must admit that yes, my watching over you originated from my grief after your family’s assassinations. I failed in my service to them and set out to try and redeem myself. Seeing you now, as a man, I find myself growing selfish. I care less and less about my duties and the politics in Eden as I become increasingly distracted with thoughts of you.”

Castiel ran his thumb feather-light along Dean’s jaw. “Your sense of honor, your kindness, your enthusiasm, they are what’s important now. I see traits of your mother, your grandparents, yes, but you, Dean Winchester, are unlike anyone I have ever known, human or fairy.”

Dean let out a shuddering sigh and closed his eyes, leaning the tiniest bit into Castiel’s touch. So much of what had been eating at him, shame and embarrassment, the horror that Castiel may have allowed Dean to take advantage of him purely for the sake of the kingdom, all of those worries were soothed by Castiel’s words. The fairy continued at a murmur, “I find myself wishing that I could stay here, in the human realm. You've already shown me so much, I want to see, learn, taste more of what your realm has to offer.”

Dean tilted his head so that their foreheads were resting together. “Why can’t you,” he whispered into the space between them, and had to start over when the words caught in his throat. “Why can’t you come stay here with me? Forget all that fairy political bullshit, come be happy and eat pie every day.”

Castiel sighed, “I would in a heartbeat Dean, if only my conscious would allow it. I cannot abandon my home right now, not with so many fae suffering. I must do everything in my power to save Eden. If you truly do not want to be involved, I will find another way. If I succeed - if I survive - I will find my way back to you, if you’ll have me.

Dean surged forward and captured Castiel’s lips in a bruising kiss, squeezing his eyes shut tight against the threat of tears. He was on the verge of launching into his own dramatic romantic confession when Sam called out from the living room.

“Hey, Dean! You almost ready in there? When do you think Castiel will be getting here?”

Dean yelled his answer. “Yeah, we’re coming!” He smiled at Castiel’s surprised expression. He spoke lowly, just to Castiel, “We’re all three of us in this together. You’re stuck with me now.”

Castiel smiled and planted a quick, chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. He stepped back and produced an Eden blade. “Take this, just in case.” He pressed the hilt into Dean’s hand, and Dean let out a small noise of surprise at the warmth and energy he felt coming from the weapon - it felt much different than the last time Cas had let him hold one. Cas must’ve read his feelings on his face because he said, “It belongs to you anyways. It was your mother’s.”

Dean nodded, unable to say anything around the lump in his throat, and hid the blade inside his jacket. He threaded his fingers through Castiel’s and pulled him down the hallway to where Sam was waiting in the living room.


	12. New Player

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets left alone for _five minutes_...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I'm putting a couple warnings for this chapter. It's not anything too heavy, but some readers might want to know about them. I guess it could be called dub-con? I'll put some more details in end notes.

Sam was just opening his mouth to call out to Dean again when he saw Dean and Castiel emerge from Dean’s room.

“Oh. Hey, Castiel. Sorry, I -” He trailed off and squinted at the pair, noticing their clasped hands and the blush that was coloring Dean’s cheeks. “Ok so are we just ignoring this?” He gestured at Dean and Castiel.

“Yep,” Dean said, ending the word with a pop of his lips. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Castiel and Dean moved towards Sam, who stood and started to turn towards the front door, but was stopped by Castiel’s hand on his shoulder. He looked questioningly back at Castiel, but before he could even ask what was going on, they were in Castiel’s tree house/home/abode thing in Eden. Sam gaped, and Dean laughed at him even though he knew he had probably looked just as idiotic the first time Castiel just appeared them in the middle of his living room.

“You’ve gotta teach me that Cas.” Dean said, getting his excited/rambling voice on. “Is it magic? Like apparating? Do you need a wand? Is your blade your wand? Wait, do Sam and I have fairy magic too?”

Sam snorted at the Harry Potter reference, but Castiel just smiled at Dean indulgently. “Not exactly magic, but yes, Dean, you and Sam both have the potential to tap into your unique abilities provided by your fairy blood. Traveling between realms is not so much an action as an awareness. Right now I can use a physical point of contact between us to project my awareness onto you, bringing you both with me when I travel. As you become more familiar with this realm and as you get more in tune with the fairy half of yourself, you’ll be able to do it on your own. Once you learn to recognize the point of change between realms, I imagine it will be quite easy for the both of you, seeing as you are of both realms.”

“Cool,” Sam breathed, apparently having no trouble keeping up with Castiel’s rapid explanation. He started to squint at the empty space in the room. “What does the point of change look like? Is it a shimmer? What do I look for?” Leave it to Sam to want to learn specifics right away, while Dean was still trying to grasp the general concept.

Castiel, apparently possessing endless patience for Winchester questions, answered. “Try and relax, don’t look too hard. It isn’t a specific object that you can look at directly. Let your eyes rest, notice slight changes in your peripheral vision, and then focus your mind on that.”

Dean tried, but it was such a strange, abstract concept and he was a literal person. He’d need a lot of practice, but right now all he was getting was a headache. Sam was standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, eyes glazed over, and then suddenly he vanished.

“Shit!” Dean exclaimed, “Sammy?”

After a few tense moments where Dean and Castiel were left just staring at the empty spot on the floor where Sam had just been standing, Castiel spoke up. “It’s quite impressive that he was able to travel at all so soon. He’s probably unable to return just yet. Seeing as he’s more familiar with the human realm and has more locations with personal significance, it will be easier for him to go in that direction at first. Accuracy is learned, so it may take a bit of searching, but I will retrieve him.” 

After a nod from Dean to show that he had heard him, Castiel was gone also, and Dean was alone in Eden.

~~~

Dean didn’t know how long it would take Castiel to find Sam, and he knew that wandering outside would be a bad idea, so all that was left for him to do was poke around Castiel’s home. So far he had only seen the main room, which featured the couch loaded with colorful cushions on one end and a low, solid table on the other side with woven grass mats on the floor surrounding it. Dean found a hidden little nook around the corner from the table, which seemed to be a pantry of sorts.

“Oh, Sammy’s gonna love this,” he mumbled to himself when he saw what was on the shelves. Assorted fruits and vegetables - some that looked familiar and some very much not familiar. A loaf of obviously freshly baked bread, some dried meats and fish, and a few corked clay jugs at the bottom. Dean inspected and found one of the jugs contained just water, but the second one he pulled the cork out of smelled _divine_. Intoxicatingly sweet, almost cloying, he assumed it had to have been a sweet wine. He remembered that Castiel said he couldn’t get drunk on human alcohol, so he refrained from trying the fairy wine; no telling how strong that stuff had to be.

Dean wondered where Castiel slept, or did his meditation thing or whatever it was that he did to rest. He moved deeper into the house, along the slightly curved back wall that had the texture of bark, and he realized that the wall was made up of the trunk of a massive tree that had apparently… grown a house? Tucked back in the corner, he found a mostly-hidden doorway that led to a narrow passage. There were steps growing right out of the rough bark, spiraling upwards, and and at the end of it he found an open, airy room. The ceiling was just a canopy of leaves and branches, and most of the floor was taken up by what appeared to be a giant nest. 

Dean wanted to get in. _Oh_ , it looked so soft and cozy, like a cloud he could just sink into. He snickered to himself at the imagery of Castiel on a cloud, _I guess I can’t stop thinking of him as an angel._ He stood in the room debating with himself, and he was just about to give in and lie down when he heard the front door open.

Dean rushed down the narrow stairs and back into the main part of the house, calling out as he went. “Finally! Took you long enough, where did you end up finding -”

It wasn’t Cas and Sam in the living room.

“Well aren’t you _delicious_ ,” the strange fairy drawled. He had pale hair and pale eyes and pale wings, radiant and bright and terrifying. “Has my dear little cousin brought home a human pet?”

Dean bristled; he was getting really fucking annoyed by these fairies calling him Castiel’s pet. “I ain’t nobody’s pet, pal. Who the fuck are you?”

The fairy’s answering smile was cold and sharp. “Lucifer. Next in line for Eden’s throne, commanding general of Eden’s military forces. I’m sure Castiel has mentioned me. And who might you be, pet?”

“Dean W- Smith,” Dean answered. He didn’t know how many fairies knew the name Winchester, and he wasn’t about to start advertising, especially to this asshole. “Mechanic.”

Something about this guy made him uneasy. He felt unpredictable, dangerous. The best that Dean could do was to keep him talking and hope that Cas would show up in time. Dean had met enough self-important dickbags to know that the best way to keep them talking was to make them the subject of conversation. “Lucifer, huh? Yeah, that sounds familiar. But the way I heard it, you’re not so much in charge as stuck in a pissing match with big brother to get your uncle’s attention. Does Uncle Zach know you’re walking around claiming titles that aren’t yours?”

Lucifer sneered. “It appears that you need to be taught some manners. It’s not polite to speak of things you know nothing about.”

He stalked towards Dean with all the deadly grace of a predator. “Has Castiel been telling you stories while you sit at his feet? Has he been showing off, telling you that he commands the royal guard? He was just trying to impress you, pet. That was a long time ago, before he was demoted and disgraced.”

Lucifer stepped into Dean’s space, pressed up to him chest to chest, and ran his fingers through Dean’s hair. It may have appeared to be sweet or tender, but it was pure condescension. Like petting a dog. Dean had noticed auras of color around Cas with strong emotions, but the tangible feeling of slime rolling off of Lucifer was a new sensation. Dean glanced to his hand, expecting to find it covered in filth, but it was clean. 

“If you want a master, pet,” Lucifer leaned in and spoke lowly right into Dean’s ear. “Someone with real power, there’s so much I could do with you.”

Dean knew he was outmatched here, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for Lucifer. Quick and smooth like the experienced fighter he was, Dean stepped back to get some space between them before bringing his fist up to connect with Lucifer’s jaw. It hurt his hand like a bitch, but Lucifer barely blinked.

“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that.” Lucifer smiled and backhanded Dean, sending him sprawling to the floor.

Dean managed to push himself up to sitting, and his mind raced. He watched Lucifer walk around Castiel’s living room, apparently unconcerned with Dean’s presence, and his fingers itched to grab the Eden blade concealed in his jacket. He didn’t bring it out yet - if weapons came into play there was a good chance he wouldn’t be walking away from it. Back to the talking plan. He stayed sitting on the floor - non threatening - and touched his thumb to his tender bottom lip. He winced when it came away bloodied. 

“So Luke,” he kept his tone light and casual. “You seem pretty sure you’ll beat out your brother, is my information out of date? I mean, like you said, I only know what Castiel has told me. I bet there’s way more to the story.”

Lucifer smiled serenely, _goddamn this guy was creepy_ , and hummed in acknowledgement. “Yes, of course. My brother and I have vastly different views on what is best for the kingdom. He is ambitious, yes, but he lacks _vision_. He wants to completely seal off Eden from the human realm, thinks that we, as fae, are above dealing with you humans.” 

He came to a stop right in front of Dean and crouched down, looming over him. “I, on the other hand, see value in you silly little creatures.” He ran his fingers once more through Dean’s hair, but then grasped tightly at the crown of his head and yanked, baring Dean’s throat.

“You see, Dean Smith,” he murmured, studying Dean’s face, “I agree with my brother on our superiority as a species, but why waste an opportunity? We have roads to be maintained, plants to harvest, chores to be done.” He paused and licked a stripe up the side of Dean’s neck, up over his jaw. “Beds to be warmed. I see my cousin shares my way of thinking, the naughty thing. I have to say I’m surprised at my upstanding, proper cousin being a deviant. I must compliment his taste though, he did pick a pretty little pet.”

Dean was about to give in to his instincts and just stab this fucker when a low growl of, “Lucifer,” came from near the front door.

Lucifer smirked and released his grip on Dean’s hair, sliding his hand down to pat Dean’s cheek before standing fluidly and turning towards Castiel.

“Castiel, dear cousin, you should know better than to leave your puppy at home all alone. No telling where he could run off to.”

Seeing the two fairies next to each other, Dean noticed the differences in their wings. Castiel had always kept his wings concealed around Dean, the only time he’d seen them was that night he got injured. This was his first time seeing them in full light. In the dark of the street he had just noticed that they were translucent and reflected colors like a prism, but in Castiel’s well-lit home and next to the almost blinding brightness of Lucifer’s wings, they looked black. Dean saw the play of light on them as Castiel moved, setting waves of color rippling along their surface, glittering like the milky way in a clear night sky. He had to pull himself out of his admiration of Cas’ wings and pay attention to the _very fucking serious_ situation going down right in front of him. 

Castiel stood still and tense, a red glow vibrating around the edges of his form that he was obviously trying hard to rein in. “What do you want,” he ground out, keeping his eyes on the other fairy and pointedly not looking at Dean.

Lucifer stuck his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. “I was _worried_ about you, cousin. I’ve been hearing whispers of you spending time in the human realm,” his eyes flicked briefly to Dean, who was still sitting on the floor. “I see those rumors are true. Listen,” he stepped in close to Castiel and dropped his voice conspiratorially. “I know what a good soldier you are, how valuable an asset you could be. I’ll give you a position of command, you openly declare your support of me, and I’ll make sure you get to keep your little pet over there. I’ll ask you to share, though, if you’re willing.”

Castiel looked at him incredulously. “I have no plans of joining you or Michael,” he said. “Dean is my friend, and there is nothing that disallows me from traveling between realms as long as I am discreet and it does not interfere with my assigned duties.”

Lucifer hummed. “Yes well not yet, at least. You know that won’t be the case if Michael has his way.”

He made his way towards the front door, pausing at the threshold. “You won’t be able to ride the fence on this much longer, cousin. Time to decide where your loyalties lie.” With that parting remark, he was out of the house. 

Dean slumped to the floor like his strings had been cut, all of the adrenaline and tension that had been keeping him sitting up leaving him at once. 

Castiel rushed to kneel at his side. “Dean! Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” His fingertips hovered over Dean’s fat lip, not quite touching.

“I’m fine, he was just creepy as fuck. I’m glad you came back though, I had just about had enough of his supervillain monologue.” 

Castiel huffed out a shaky laugh. “Yes, Lucifer has always had a taste for the dramatic. It was good that you kept him talking, that could’ve been… much worse. You should’ve seen the fiasco that was King Zachariah's last birthday celebration. Lucifer killed a servant in the middle of the great hall for spilling wine on him.”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered. “I’ve gotta say Cas, so far I’m not fond of the family members of yours that I’ve met.” As his brain settled on the concept of family, he leapt gracelessly to his feet. “Sam! Did you find him?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, he ended up in the back parking lot of The Roadhouse. It must hold some significance for him.”

“Yeah, The Roadhouse is as much a home to me and Sammy as any other place,” Dean explained. “Makes sense. Where is he now?”

“In your apartment,” Castiel told him. “I was going to bring him back here, but changed my mind when I realized that Lucifer was in my home. I thought that bringing yet another human to Lucifer’s attention would’ve been a poor decision.”

Dean suppressed a shudder at the thought of Lucifer anywhere near his baby brother.

“Let me take you home,” Castiel said. “Now that Lucifer has seen you he has gained leverage on me, even if he doesn’t know who you really are. We need to figure out how we want to proceed, and quickly, before he decides to press his advantage.”

At Dean’s nod, Castiel grasped his shoulder and brought them back into Dean’s living room, where Sam was pacing worriedly and all but wringing his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We meet Lucifer, who doesn't have any personal space or regard for anyone else, and he ends up being quite forward with Dean, who is extremely uncomfortable with the entire interaction.


	13. Castiel's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel starts to put his plan into motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, and it's Castiel's POV. BUT, if you noticed, there is now a final chapter count! That's pretty exciting, my friends.

As soon as he had Dean safely in the human realm, Castiel stepped back into Eden. He decided to seek out Gabriel first.

When he appeared in Gabriel's entryway, he found his brother sprawled on his low couch, working his way through a package of sour straws. “Hey baby bro,” he greeted Castiel. “Have you been hangin’ with your human? Did you bring me anything from that realm?”

Castiel gestured to the sour straw hanging out of Gabriel’s mouth. “You are obviously capable of obtaining your own sweets from the human realm. And for the record, I’m still not pleased with the things you said to Dean that night.”

Gabriel swung his feet to the floor and sat up properly. “Listen Cassie, I was just trying to protect you-”

“ _However_ ,” Castiel steamrolled him. “I’m willing to set that aside. I need a favor.”

Gabriel put a hand up to stop him. “I’m not gonna babysit again, Cassie. That was a one time, emergency deal.”

Castiel’s mouth twitched with the barest hint of a smirk. “Don’t worry Gabriel, I don’t want you around him any more than he wants to see you. My request does have to do with Dean, but it requires your particular skill set and connections. And a small amount of treason.”

Mischief gleamed in Gabriel’s eye. “You have my attention.”

Castiel had to hold back a smug smile. He knew he’d be able to get Gabriel interested. “I need you to get me the Campbell scepter and orb.”

Gabriel sat back, surprised and confused at the seemingly random change of subject. “The Campbell - what? What does that have to do with…” He trailed off as the gears in his brain started working, sliding pieces of information around to fit them together.

Castiel waited silently for the realization to dawn on Gabriel’s face, followed quickly by wide-eyed disbelief.

“You can’t be serious, Cassie.”

“Dean is Mary Campbell’s son,” Castiel said resolutely. “Lucifer is openly recruiting. I wouldn’t be surprised if Michael showed up on my doorstep next. It seems the brothers have lost patience with our uncle; no matter what, things are going to be changing very soon, and I plan to present a better option than what we currently have to choose from.”

Gabriel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When do you need them?”

“The first gathering of the spring festival,” Castiel answered. “We need it to be public.”

Gabriel grinned. “Uncle Zach’s gonna be _pissed_.”

~~~

Castiel’s next visit was to his cousin Hannah. She was the only other fairy who knew about Dean - well, before he had filled Gabriel in.

She was in her kitchen chopping vegetables when he showed up. Her relaxed demeanor evaporated as soon as she saw him, her stance settling seamlessly into military attention when she registered the expression on his face. “Was it Lucifer or Michael?” 

“Lucifer,” Castiel said. “But Michael probably isn’t far behind. I need your help.”

Hannah stood frozen for a moment, torn between her protectiveness over her dearest cousin, her desire for justice, and her sense of duty. She didn’t want Castiel to be putting himself in danger by going against the crown, but she understood why he was doing it. She too wanted to see a Campbell on the throne again, but Castiel had found a _human_. Factor in Hannah’s position as a high ranking soldier of Eden, and this was extremely risky for her. Despite all of that, she really only had one choice. 

“How can I help?”

Castiel’s shoulders released a tiny amount of the tension he’d been holding on to. He had faith in Hannah, trusted her implicitly, but he knew he was asking a lot. “Let’s sit,” he said, moving to Hannah’s table. “I can’t stay long. I just need you to gather some support. I’m not looking to build an army, but we will need members of nobility willing to openly support a Campbell heir. You can keep all of your discussions hypothetical to protect yourself and those you speak to, we will provide proof publicly.”

Hannah leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “I have a few ideas, I’ll see what I can find out.”

“It’s imperative that you keep this quiet.” Castiel fixed his soul-searching gaze on her. “If the wrong person catches even a whisper of this before we’re ready, it’ll be all of our heads.”

Hannah very nearly rolled her eyes at the concept of _Castiel_ advising caution, but she just nodded and grasped both of his hands in hers over the table. “Of course, cousin. Take your own advice, will you? Be careful. Check in with me when you can. When will the announcement be taking place?”

“The spring festival,” he answered. He saw Hannah’s blue eyes, so like his own, widen in surprise. “I know it’s very soon, but it’s our best chance.”

“Of course,” Hannah agreed. “It makes sense, but are you sure you’ll be able to have him ready?”

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Castiel told her, and made his exit.

~~~

With his two most trusted family members working on the plan, Castiel went back to his own home to take care of a few things.

He rummaged in his pantry for a moment and took out a couple small jars of herbs, which he mixed in his mortar and pestle with some water to make a paste. Striding to his front door with the bowl in his hands, Castiel used his fingers to paint some symbols around the door frame. He conjured his Eden blade and nicked his finger, using a drop of his blood to seal the warding. This would prevent his power hungry cousins from entering his home without his permission, and let him know if they tried. 

Privacy wards weren’t especially difficult to put into place, but they were mostly unnecessary in Eden. There were social rules and manners, parts of one’s home that you weren’t supposed to enter without permission. Most homes had a small nook near the entryway where one could enter and wait for the resident’s okay to come further into the house. Castiel had never felt invaded or suspicious of his fellow fairies in his own home, but Lucifer had shattered the sense of privacy and safety. 

He couldn’t even put words to the torrent of feelings that had torn through him when he discovered that Lucifer was in his home, alone with Dean. Fear, panic, betrayal. Everything he had been trying to protect for the past three decades, ever since Mary left Eden for good, could’ve been destroyed on the whim of his mad cousin. He could’ve lost Dean.

Castiel had to close his eyes and breathe for a moment to get himself under control. He couldn't afford to lose himself to emotion now, there was still so much to be done. With Lucifer on the move, there was practically no time to act if they wanted to have a chance at succeeding. 

He sighed and finished putting in place various protections on his home. He had to get back to Dean - he’d left the brothers so quickly after the encounter with Lucifer, overcome with the need to _do something_ , to set his plan in motion. Now that he had spoken to Gabriel and Hannah and warded his home, he was ready to face Dean with a slightly clearer mind. 

Castiel retrieved his charmed coat to help him hide his wings in the human realm, took a deep breath, and stepped into Dean’s apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end! Honestly, there is, at this point, a very good chance of a sequel to this fic. I've wrapped up this story, but there's more in this 'verse I feel like I want to do. But we'll see. Happy Wednesday, see you next week!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel lets Dean in on his grand plan, and Dean has to learn how to fairy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoga class with Cas and Dean.
> 
> I'm posting early this week because I'll be at Disneyland on Wednesday and I won't be at a computer. Enjoy!

As soon as Sam noticed their presence, he pounced. He tutted over Dean’s lip and held on to his shoulders, looking him over for further injury.

Dean grumbled. “I’m _fine_ Sammy, it’s nothing,” and pushed his brother off of him, not harsh, but firmly reclaiming his bubble of personal space. 

“Castiel said you were in danger, that Lucifer was there in his house with you. What happened?” Sam was getting frantic.

“Well he lived up to his name, I can tell you that,” Dean said, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. “It was pretty much what you’d expect, Sam. He showed up, gave me his big pompous evil guy speech, then Cas showed up and ran him off. That’s it.” He left out how off balance Lucifer had made him feel, how unsettled he still was, how he felt slimy and like he needed a scalding hot shower to get Lucifer’s essence off of him.

Sam looked to Castiel, hoping that the fairy might elaborate, but Castiel was… not there.

“Castiel?” Sam called out to the open air.

Dean looked around, noticing that Castiel was gone. He tried to reassure Sam that everything was fine. “He probably just had some stuff to take care of, like bleaching everything in his house that Lucifer touched. He’ll be back, don’t worry about it. I’m gonna go grab a shower.” Before Sam could ask him questions or try and pry more information from him, Dean was down the hall and locking the bathroom door behind him.

Dean turned the water on hot and stripped quickly. When he stepped under the spray he adjusted the water temperature to as hot as he could stand, and scrubbed his body head to toe. Twice. Then gave it one more thorough scrub for good measure. 

After drying off and getting dressed in his armor - jeans, t-shirt, flannel, jacket, boots - he went back to the living room where Sam was trying to read his Eden notes, but Dean could see that Sam looked tense and worried. He called out, “Cas! Alright buddy, we’re gonna need some info, get back here when you can.”

“Apologies, I was looking in on Eden,” Castiel explained from just inside the front door. “It seems that I am not the only one Lucifer tried to recruit. He is gathering followers. It is time.”

Sam and Dean glanced at each other in the wake of that ominous comment, silently asking if the other knew what the hell was going on.

“Time for what?” Dean ventured when it was clear that Sam was just as lost as he was.

“Time to make your presence known,” Castiel replied. “Dean, you must go to court and challenge Zachariah for the throne. Proving your legitimacy will not only unseat Zachariah, it will undercut both Lucifer and Michael's campaigns for the crown.”

Sam spoke up first. “Isn’t that dangerous? Zachariah will probably just kill Dean and be done with it.”

Castiel nodded. “If Dean revealed himself privately that would likely be the outcome. But the spring festival is next week. The entire kingdom will gather on the palace grounds to celebrate - it is the perfect opportunity for Dean to stake his claim.”

Sam grabbed his notebook full of information of Eden, along with the tome he had gotten from Castiel, and settled onto the floor at the coffee table. He opened both books, flipping rapidly through pages as he searched for something specific. “We need a way to prove that Dean is who he says he is, something we can do publicly so everyone can know, without question.”

Castiel nodded. “I have a plan for that. The royal scepter and orb has the ability to recognize a true heir. If we can get them, if Dean holds them in front of everyone in Eden, there will be no denying who he is.”

Sam was borderline giddy. “Ok, where are they? Can you get them?”

“They are in the royal vaults. Zachariah had his own scepter and orb made when he took the throne. I’ve talked to my brother Gabriel, he's working on it.”

~~~

Castiel and Sam were caught up in making plans for several minutes before Castiel noticed that Dean had been silent throughout the entire discussion. He looked around for him and found him in the kitchen, pale and trembling, sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest.

“Dean,” he said worriedly, and rushed to his side. “Dean, what is it? Did Lucifer -”

“No Cas, it wasn’t your creepy cousin. It’s you and Sam! You’re both so excited and ready to just charge in, aren’t you the least bit worried? I’m fucking terrified! I’m just supposed to waltz out in front of an entire kingdom and call myself king? I’m not even a fairy, dude. Maybe part of one, but I can’t do the traveling thing that Sam picked up on right away, and I don’t even look like a fairy. It’s pretty damn obvious I don’t have wings -”

“Yes you do.”

“How is anyone even going to take me seriously without - wait, what?” Dean’s rant was cut short by Castiel’s matter-of-fact statement.

“What?” Sam sputtered from where he was standing on the threshold in between the living room and kitchen.

Castiel looked between the two brothers. “Of course you have wings. Both of you do.” As if that were a completely normal thing for him to say.

Sam had his painfully confused puppy face on, and Dean was trying to look over his own shoulder, like maybe he just hadn’t _noticed_ the wings before.

Castiel explained. “You just haven't learned to manifest them, is all.”

“Oh, is that all?” Dean asked, voice dripping sarcasm. “Well that solves everything. Now I just need to learn to manifest freaking wings with the power of belief, and then learn fairy magic, travel between realms, avoid assassination, and learn how to rule a kingdom, all by next week. No problem!” He was yelling by the end, eyes frantic.

“You are a Campbell,” Castiel said. “It is in your blood. Plus, being royalty is not something you need to do on your own. Sam and I will be here every step of the way to help you.”

Sam nodded his earnest agreement.

“Great,” Dean muttered. “Cue my hero montage.”

~~~

The three of them worked tirelessly for the following week. Unbeknownst to Dean, Sam had gotten in contact with Stanford and cited a family emergency, putting his studies on hold indefinitely. Deep down he had no plans to go back, but he knew Dean was going to be upset no matter what. It might be less of a fallout if Sam at least kept the option open.

Castiel and Dean sparred with their Eden blades, improving Dean’s hand to hand skills. Sam studied fairy laws and customs with Dean, both of them reading and quizzing each other back and forth. Castiel was traveling between realms constantly. He was working with Gabriel on his plans to get the Campbell scepter and orb, and trading information with Hannah on who would support Dean’s claim and how to get more people resistant to staying under Zachariah’s rule, or siding with Michael or Lucifer. 

In every spare second, Dean was trying to manifest his wings. One night, Castiel returned to Dean’s apartment to find Sam sprawled asleep on the couch with a book wedged under his hip where he’d slumped on top of it, his notebook in his lap, and a pen behind his ear. Castiel dislodged the books and put a pillow under Sam’s head to save him a sore neck in the morning.

He moved through the quiet apartment and into Dean’s room, expecting to find him similarly asleep. Dean was sitting cross-legged in the center of his bed, brow furrowed in concentration. Castiel paused just inside the door, not wanting to disturb him. He studied Dean’s features - eyes roaming over the freckles on his nose, his lashes casting a shadow over the crest of his cheekbones, his lips slightly pursed from the effort of his focus. 

Castiel was startled out of his observations by a sudden frustrated growl coming from Dean. He opened his eyes and jumped at the sight of Castiel in his room.

Instead of a rebuke for sneaking up on him (again), Dean just heaved a weary sigh. “Dude, I can’t do this. I’ve tried all the meditation crap you’ve told me and nothing happens. Maybe I take after my dad and I don’t have wings after all.”

“No, that’s not it,” Castiel assured him. “I can see their echoes, they exist. Perhaps I can help?” He inclined his head towards the empty space on the bed next to Dean. At Dean’s answering nod, he climbed up and mirrored Dean’s position so they were sitting facing each other, legs crossed and knees touching between them. “I can try and guide you through the meditation.”

Castiel took Dean’s hands in his own and rested them together in the space between their crossed ankles. “I know you mocked the power of belief Dean, but the mind can do more than you would think. When you use all of your energy to focus on one specific thing, you’re closing yourself off to new possibilities. Pull back, see the big picture.”

“I’m really more of a tiny details guy,” Dean grumbled.

That earned him an annoyed huff of his name from Castiel.

“Alright alright,” he said, determined to at least make an effort. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, awaiting Castiel’s instructions.

Castiel’s deep voice washed over him, and Dean could feel the physical weight of his words, the deep tenor vibrating through him.

“Breathe in, feel your breath bringing light to all parts of your body. Send your breath down your legs, filling you to your toes, and push it back out. Another breath in, sending that light and awareness across your shoulders, to your elbows, to your fingertips. Let it out.”

Dean knew that if anyone else were trying this there was no way he’d be able to take them seriously. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d tease Sam mercilessly about. Sam must never know about this. As nonsensical as he would normally find this, Dean put away his skepticism and let the hypnotic timbre of Cas’ voice sweep out his doubts and guide his thoughts.

“Bring this next deep breath in, feel it move up your spine and tingle along your scalp. Feel your entire body, be aware of each individual part. Starting at the top of your head, relax your muscle groups one by one. Hold your eyes gently closed instead of squeezing them shut, relax your jaw, your neck, your shoulders.” Castiel continued steadily and calmly.

Dean felt himself start to slump as he released tension he hadn’t realized he was holding onto. He was so used to having his guard up mentally and emotionally, he didn’t know it was something he physically carried with him. Maybe there was something to this meditation thing. Within minutes, Dean was fully relaxed. His mind felt clear and calm, like the surface of a glassy lake, and his body felt heavy and loose.

Castiel started to guide him back into his body. “Keep breathing deeply and calmly, and reawaken your muscles. Wiggle your toes, flex your ankles, stretch your neck from side to side. Now breathe in and roll your shoulders back - feel the weight and movement of new muscles, just between your shoulderblades, near your spine. Reach your those muscles, feel them out, see if you can stretch -” He cut off with a gasp.

Dean’s eyes flew open. “What is it? Did I do it wrong?” He looked over his shoulder and almost fell off the bed when he saw a wall of green/gold so near his face. Except when he leaned away, the wall came with him. Wings. He had wings. Holy shit. “Holy shit,” he looked to Cas, whose own wings had appeared behind him. 

Castiel was staring wide-eyed with his mouth slightly open. “Dean,” he finally breathed out. “They’re beautiful.”

Dean felt himself flush at the compliment, and he noticed his wings quiver in his peripheral vision, sending patterns of light dancing across Castiel’s face. _Showoffs_ , he thought at them. He smiled at Cas, feeling proud and accomplished.

He opened his mouth to say thank you, but his gratitude was trapped behind his lips as Castiel surged forward to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, my friends. See you next week! I'm also on [Tumblr](http://bfab11.tumblr.com/).


	15. Party Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last minute preparations, practice, and bonding. Fun times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter! It's almost the end, folks.

Castiel’s mouth was hot and insistent, and Dean let himself get lost in the kiss for a few moments before gently pulling back, putting his hands on Castiel’s shoulders to keep him from chasing after. He laughed at the frankly adorable pout on the fairy’s mouth. “Wings do it for you, huh Cas?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not wings in general. _Your_ wings. I have never seen any like them. My wings are strange and not appealing, but yours are beautiful. It’s like all the forests of Eden - their essence, their souls - are contained within them. They’re regal. You look like the true king that you are.”

Dean blushed at Castiel’s compliment before he caught everything he had said. “Wait. Not appealing? What the fuck are you talking about? Your wings are the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen. They're like stars, galaxies... “ He trailed off, eyes sweeping over the spread of Castiel’s wings.

Castiel ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders a bit. “Generally, attractiveness of wings goes along with light or brightness. You law Lucifer, his wings are the most revered in the realm for their beauty. Wings come in all shades, but darker ones are rare, and mine are the only black ones I’ve ever even heard of.”

He was hunched in on himself, tendrils of blue starting to appear around his shoulders, obviously feeling self conscious. 

“Hey, don’t go blue on me Cas,” Dean said. “Lucifer’s wings may have been bright but the dude is a slimeball. I mean, I could literally feel it. Talking to him was like trudging through a swamp.”

Castiel’s head snapped up, and he stared at Dean in that unnerving way he had. “What do you mean you could feel it? You could - can you sense his intentions?”

“I dunno, I guess?” Dean shrugged. “Isn’t that a fairy thing, broadcasting stuff onto other people? I don’t usually get much from you unless you’re really feeling something, like how you were just kinda blue.” He paused to ghost his fingertips along Castiel’s shoulders, not quite touching. “Or when you were getting all up in Lucifer’s face and glowing red. It was intimidating as hell, I’m not surprised he left so quick.”

Castiel was gaping.

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

“Dean, fairies don’t project, as you say. If we try very hard we can influence situations or humans, and I have done for you before, but to be able to read people - fae - like that? It’s a very rare and valuable skill. One that hasn’t been seen in generations.” There was awe in his tone and his expression.

It was too late at night for Dean to process this shit. “Cool,” he shrugged. “Listen Cas, thanks for helping me get my wings out, but I’m exhausted. Can we talk about this other thing tomorrow?”

Castiel looked confused for a moment, but nodded. “Of course, Dean. I could use some rest as well.” He unfolded himself from where he had been sitting across from Dean on the bed and settled into the chair in the corner.

Dean sighed and held back a laugh. “Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Go to your nest to meditate, dude. I won’t be able to sleep with you creepin’ in the corner.”

Castiel tilted his head adorably. “You’ve slept plenty of times with me here.”

“Not while I was aware! Or, well, not aware and sober. Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? Give me like, four hours.” Dean hid a huge yawn behind his hand.

“As you wish,” Castiel responded, and then he was gone.

Dean snorted to himself and mumbled, “inconceivable.” He had barely gotten the word out before he dropped off into sleep.

~~~

Precisely four hours later, Dean had just exited the bathroom after emptying his bladder and brushing his teeth when he ran into Castiel standing in the hallway. 

“Hey, Cas. I was just going to start some coffee. Is Sam awake?” It said something about the state of Dean’s life lately that Cas just randomly appearing in his apartment didn't even phase him.

“Yes, I believe he has already brewed a pot,” Cas told him. “Perhaps you would like to get dressed, we have much to discuss.”

Dean narrowed his eyes in confusion, but nodded and slipped back into his room to change.

When Dean got to the kitchen, Sam and Cas were sitting at the table, a mug of coffee in front of an empty chair for Dean. He sat down and took as big of a drink as he could manage without burning himself, then turned to the fairy. “Ok Cas, what’s up?”

Castiel took a bracing breath and dove right in. “Michael came to see me this morning.”

“Wait, Michael? As in Lucifer’s brother, wants to take over, hates humans Michael?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Cas was staring resolutely at the tabletop. “He came with a similar offer to Lucifer’s - give him my support, receive a position of power and prestige. Although his offer came with a warning about ‘nasty rumors,’” Castiel actually used his fingers to make quotes in the air. “He spoke as if he were doing me a favor, letting me know that fairies were talking about me, saying that I was spending time in the human realm. Michael acted like he didn’t believe what was said, and told me to be careful of my activities because other fairies are looking to me, that my actions could easily be viewed as choosing a side, and I should think carefully about how I want to present myself.” 

Dean sighed. “So basically you’re being monitored by both Michael and Lucifer, and watch your back,” he stated bluntly.

Cas agreed with him. “Essentially, yes.”

Dean set his jaw. “Alright,” he slapped his palms on his thighs. “We have one more day, right? Let’s go to a party.”

Castiel produced a cloth bundle seemingly from nowhere, and handed it to Dean. “This should help you look the part,” he said as Dean unfolded pieces of beautiful clothing. Not gaudy or over the top, but obviously very fine quality. A pair of deep brown leather trousers, a linen shirt, and woven tan jacket covered in gorgeous green and gold embroidery. The abstract shapes reminded Dean of the play of sunlight, filtered through a canopy of trees onto the forest floor.

“Shit Cas, where did you get these?” Dean generally didn’t put much stock in wardrobe, but even he could appreciate the beauty of this outfit. It would definitely make him look like royalty, but it was understated enough that he wouldn’t feel like a dressed up monkey.

“I made them,” Cas responded, like it was obvious, because why _wouldn't_ he have made them?

Dean gaped. “I thought you were a soldier,” he blurted dumbly, and maybe all those gossiping fairies had a point about Cas spending too much time in the human realm because he honest-to-God rolled his eyes at Dean.

“If am. And I have a uniform and personal clothing that I must wear and maintain. The construction and decoration of garments is an important aspect of expressing oneself. With the exception of the very rich or the royal, most everyone in Eden makes their own clothes.” Castiel paused and turned to Sam. “I apologize that I didn’t have time to make you suitable garments, we will have to attempt to put something together with what we can find in this realm.”

Sam nodded, unbothered. The back of his mind tickled with something he had read - something about making and presenting garments as a gift to someone you intended to enter into a courtship with - and he smiled kindly at Castiel. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, all eyes are gonna be on him anyways, right? My suit that Dean bought me for my high school graduation still fits, I think it’s in one of the spare closets at Uncle Bobby’s.”

Castiel nodded to himself, then vanished. He reappeared a moment later holding Sam’s suit on a hanger. Draped over it was a new addition, a tan sash with embroidery mimicking the designs on Dean’s jacket. “This will identify you as a Campbell - as Dean’s kin. It’s the best I could do before tomorrow.”

Sam nodded his thanks and took the suit from Castiel, rubbing the sash between his fingertips and admiring the embroidery.

“I also managed to procure an Eden blade for you,” Cas said as he produced yet another object out of thin air. 

“Thanks Castiel, I really appreciate it.” Sam carried the suit and the blade out of the kitchen and towards Dean’s room to put them away. 

Castiel turned to Dean. “We need to go over your declaration again, and our strategy. I’ll bring us to Eden so we can enter the gathering through a side door…”

~~~

The rest of the day was spent reviewing what would happen, going over what Dean was supposed to say, and Dean practicing showing and hiding his wings. He was getting better at getting his wings under control; his nerves, however, were a lost cause.

Much too soon for Dean, morning came of the first day of the festival. He was quiet and fidgety as he paced in the living room. He was in his brown leather pants and fine linen shirt, his embroidered jacket laid carefully over the back of a chair. 

Cas had left a few hours earlier to finalize their plans on the Eden side. When he appeared back in the living room, Dean didn’t even bother with a greeting.

“You’re sure your brother is gonna come through?” The words came out almost as a growl, echoing the tension etched in the line of his shoulders and the way he kept clenching and opening his fists at his sides.

“Yes,” Castiel answered with a sigh. They’d been over this countless times, Dean unwilling to trust the fairy that had been so dismissive of him. “Gabriel may seem like he doesn’t take anything seriously, but he is an experienced warrior. Everything is in place, he’s already acting on his part.”

Dean halted his pacing and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Cas. I know I’m being an ass, I’m just so goddamned scared.”

Castiel stepped close and put his hands on Dean’s shoulders, leaning in until their foreheads were touching. “I know, Dean. I am too. But we are prepared, your claim is valid, this is the best thing for the realm. I have faith in you.”

Dean kept his eyes closed and his forehead against Castiel’s while he took a slow, deep breath. He straightened up, squaring his shoulders, and Castiel saw a hard glint of determination in his green eyes. Dean nodded shortly. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Dean straightened his shirt, making sure it was still tucked in on all sides, and shrugged on his jacket. He was in the middle of fastening it up when Sam came down the hall from the bathroom, suit on and Campbell sash in place. The three men looked at each other in silence - there was nothing to say, they’d covered the plan front to back and inside out a million times. All that was left was to carry it out.

At Dean’s nod, Castiel placed a hand on each Winchester’s shoulder and they found themselves in a small, empty corridor. Sounds of a large gathering filtered in through a heavy wooden door. The movement of bodies and a low murmur of indistinguishable voices engaged in small talk grounded Dean in the moment. 

He felt the weight of what he was about to do settle over him, but instead of the sheer panic he’d felt before, it cemented his resolve. This was important. This was going to make a difference. This was justice. 

Castiel’s wings had come out as soon as they landed in Eden, which was the norm, but Dean kept his concealed for the moment. Sam, despite his increased proficiency in inter-realm travel, hadn’t been able to get his wings out yet. Castiel assured him that controlling the visibility of one’s wings was a difficult skill, that that he himself still relied on his magic-imbued coat to help keep his hidden in the human realm from time to time. 

The three of them gathered near the door to wait and listen for their signal from Hannah, who was stationed on the other side of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is a fairy of many talents.


	16. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're in Eden, all of the realm's fairies are in attendance, and Dean has to pronounce himself king. No problem, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again and forever thank you to [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anoblecompanion) for your help and encouragement and for giving a shit about this story when you were the only person reading it. There's no way I would've gotten to this point without you.

After a few tense minutes of hovering next to the door, their signal from Hannah came in the form of three sharp raps on the wood. Dean took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth before he pulled the door open and strode into the ballroom like he owned the place. With his shoulders thrown back, head high, and that bowlegged swagger coming out full force, he was the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen.

The absence of wings behind him drew attention, and a hush fell over the fairies nearby as Dean moved through the room, Castiel and Sam following close behind, with Hannah acting as the rear guard. 

Dean walked, seeming to everyone to be confident and unaffected, until he stood in the center of the room. There was a raised platform on one side of the room that held the throne, but this was a time to be on ground level, among the people, and to make those in power step down to him. He looked around, trying to make sense of the swirling auras around everyone gathered, but between the clothes and the wings and the auras, he couldn’t focus enough to figure anything out. When a guard finally managed to rouse himself from stunned inactivity, he approached.

“Human,” the guard barked. “What business have you in Eden? Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

“Take me to your leader,” Dean said with a cheeky grin. He could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes behind him but the gathered fairies took the words at face value. “I’ve got some matters to discuss with King Zach, have him come on down.”

Everyone in the hall looked around, unsure how to handle this human just waltzing into their court like he belonged there. From one side of the room came a shout. “You heard the man, let’s get him an audience!”

The crowd parted to admit Gabriel into the cleared space at the center of the room where Dean stood. He was the only person in the room besides Dean who wore a smile, and Dean was having to work _really_ hard to keep up his relaxed act. Gabriel didn’t seem to be faking it, which meant the crazy son of a bitch was actually _enjoying_ this shit show.

“Heya Dean-o. No hard feelings for that one time I saved your life, right? Great.” Gabriel steamrolled over anything anyone might want to say. His eyes landed on Sam, standing next to Castiel just inside the pressing wall of the crowd, fairies unwilling to get too near the humans.

“Hellohhhhhh, who is this fine specimen? I’m starting to understand Cassie’s fascination with humans.” He moved into Sam’s personal space and grinned lecherously up at him.

Sam stepped back, almost bumping into the crowd of fairies behind him, and those closest to the clearing shuffled uncomfortably. “Um, hi. I’m Sam? I’m just here with Dean.”

Gabriel’s next comment, which was bound to be something highly inappropriate, was interrupted by the arrival of Zachariah, flanked by a royal guard. 

“What’s going on here?” The king demanded. His eyes flicked dismissively over Dean and landed on Castiel. “Castiel, what do you think you’re doing, bringing a human into our midst?” Castiel stared fiercely, challenging, at his uncle without bothering to give him an explanation.

Zachariah went quiet, considering, and finally turned to actually look at Dean. He studied him for a moment, his eyes sweeping calculatingly up and down the length of Dean’s body, going wide when he recognized the embroidery pattern on Dean’s jacket. He collected himself quickly, and turned back to Castiel with a scoff. “A coup, nephew? I can’t say I’m surprised, I knew I should’ve had you killed long ago, that you couldn’t be trusted. You were always so disgustingly loyal to the Campbells, putting them above even your own family.” His voice turned light, mocking, like this was of no consequence to him. “Though I must say this clumsy attempt was unexpected. A human? Really?”

Zachariah heaved a bored sigh. “Arrest him,” he waved a disdainful hand in Castiel’s general direction. “Someone put the humans back where they belong, I have no desire to deal with them.” He turned to head back to his throne when Dean’s voice rang out.

“Zachariah Adler!” Dean said, raising his voice loud enough to be heard by everyone in attendance. “My name is Dean Winchester, first born son of Mary Campbell.” 

A murmur rippled through the crowd at the mention of Mary’s name, quickly followed by a hush as Dean continued.

“I have come here, in front of all of the citizens of Eden, to challenge your succession to the throne.”

Zachariah whirled on Dean, face and aura both red. “The Campbell line is _extinct_ , I don’t know who you think you are -”

He was cut off by the collective gasp of the crowd when Dean’s wings appeared, quivering with barely contained rage. “You murdered my mother. And my grandparents.” Dean’s voice was low and dangerous. “Now you will step down and give me what you _stole_ through blood and violence, which is mine by birthright.”

The sound of marching came from the edges of the room as Lucifer and Michael approached from either side with a unit of soldiers each. “Arrest them!” Zachariah called out frantically to his nephews. 

Dean was a breath away from bringing out his Eden blade and going down swinging when Gabriel’s casual drawl cut through the chatter. “One moment, uncle.” He stepped between Dean and Zachariah, indifferent to the tension in the room. “How about we gather some evidence? If he’s not the true heir, that should be simple enough to prove.”

With an unnecessary flourish of his wrists, a scepter and orb appeared in his hands. Dean barely held back a gasp - he hadn’t gotten to see them yet. They were gorgeous, gleaming zebra wood, light and dark grains swirling together, the pattern broken intermittently by bands of rose gold dotted was raw quartz. It was elegant and natural, of the forest, but utterly regal. Dean felt drawn to them, his whole body yearning to hold the objects. They felt like _his_.

He reached out towards them, and Zachariah let out a roar. He lunged towards Dean, but was held back by a member of his own guard. “Easy there, your majesty,” the guard said in a posh accent. 

Dean wondered if Eden was so different that the blond bedhead was an acceptable hairstyle for a member of the military. The guy’s bright, rainbow wings also stood out from the more muted colors of his fellow guards, and even though he was wearing the same jacket as them, his shirt underneath was open in a deep vee halfway down his chest. “If what you say is true, you’ve nothing to fear if the boy holds the objects, eh? Let’s wait and see what happens.” His tone was casual, but his grip on Zachariah wasn’t going to be broken easily.

Castiel nodded his thanks to Balthazar and quickly scanned the room, seeing that fairies who supported their cause (or at least opposed Zachariah) had inserted themselves among the crowd. They were still lying low, not wanting to be outwardly aggressive or start any riots, but ready and willing to step in and protect Dean and Castiel if things went south. 

Dean licked his lips nervously and took the final step towards Gabriel, reaching out. The moment his fingers grasped the scepter and orb, a pulse of magic burst out from the point of contact. It spread through the room like a shockwave, sending fairies stumbling back from the force of it. Sam’s wings snapped into existence without him even realizing, shining a bright, gleaming copper, and all eyes were on Dean, who was literally glowing with power.

Dean could read the auras of the room easily, now. Everyone was glowing a white-gold of shock and awe, affected by the magic rolling off of Dean. There were three separate bright red points - Zachariah, Michael, and Lucifer. They were all three trying to shove their way to the center of the room, to Dean, and Dean was surprised to find that he could sense the Eden blades that Michael and Lucifer had concealed on them, intent on killing him. 

Zachariah was easily restrained, Balthazar’s fellow guards turned to help him immediately after the proof of Dean’s claim. Dean addressed him first, keeping an awareness of the movements of Michael and Lucifer through the crowd.

“Zachariah Adler, you are hereby charged with treason and murder. You will be imprisoned to await trial. Take him away,” he directed the last part to the guards holding him, who nodded and promptly ushered the usurper from the room.

Dean watched the advancement of the two brothers through the crowd and called out to them as they reached the edge of the open space around Dean. “Luc! Good to see you again, thanks for joining us. Mikey, I haven’t had the pleasure yet, I know how you feel about humans. Hey there. What can I do for you fellas?”

Both Lucifer and Michael kept their eyes downcast, adopting humble expressions, which would’ve been really convincing if Dean couldn’t read their anger and contempt and hate in their auras. Michael spoke first. “King Campbell -”

“Winchester,” Dean interrupted him. Michael didn’t outwardly react, but Dean saw a flicker of disgust flash through his aura at the use of his human surname.

“King Winchester,” Michael forced out. “What joyous news, that the beloved royal line of Campbells is not ended, as we believed. Your mother’s tragic death, in the cold and snow of the human realm was truly -”

“So it was you,” Dean growled.

Michael tensed. “I don’t -”

“I know that the public statement was intentionally vague, not much was said about the death of a princess who had left the realm years before. She wasn’t a major player at the time, just a loose end to tie up,” his lip curled in a sneer. “How do you know the weather conditions at the time of my mom’s death?”

Michael hesitated a beat, and when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this one he rushed at Dean, Eden blade in hand. Before Dean had time to react, Castiel stepped smoothly in front of him and drove his own blade into Michael’s gut. 

“I failed to protect Mary Campbell from you,” he spoke lowly into Michael’s ear. “I will not fail again.”

Lucifer took a step back and raised his hands. “I’ll just - go join my uncle, shall I?” He turned to a nearby guard and handed his blade over, handle-side first, before gesturing an “after you” and following the guard out of the ballroom and towards his imprisonment. Dean knew that wasn’t the end of Lucifer, but thankfully he was smart enough to retreat right now.

Two more guards quickly removed Michael’s body, and the hall settled into an anticipatory silence. Dean looked to Castiel, trying to convey his gratitude without words, and also ask him what the fuck he was supposed to do now.

Castiel nodded. “There’s a dias over here, where you can stand and address everyone.”

Their small entourage moved through the crowd easily, fairies scrambling to get out of their way. They reached the edge of the room where a small stage stood, upon which sat a throne. Dean froze up - he wasn’t ready to take that seat yet. Maybe never, if Eden didn’t accept him. He wasn’t going to force anyone to accept him as their leader, then he’d be no better than Zachariah.

He climbed the couple stairs and stood at the edge of the dias, looking out over the crowd. The scepter and orb had unlocked something in Dean, anchoring him in his fairy self and amplifying his abilities. It was a huge rush of new sensory input that he was still trying to make sense of, and he was getting a bit of a headache.

He could not only see the colors of auras more clearly and easily than before, but he could sense the emotions of the room. He was getting a pretty complete picture of what people were feeling, and it was overwhelming. The most prominent emotion coming across from the crowd was shock. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, overthrowing not only the regency that had been in place for close to twenty years, but the entire belief system of the kingdom. Dean could empathize. Beyond his abilities as an empath, even. He still wasn’t able to believe everything that was happening, and he was the one doing it. All eyes were on him, waiting.

He cleared his throat and allowed himself just a moment to shift on his feet and try and disperse a tiny bit of nervous energy. He felt awkward, standing there still holding the scepter and orb, but at least it solved the problem of what to do with his hands while he spoke.

“Citizens of Eden,” he said, raising his voice to carry across the ballroom. “My name is Dean Winchester. My mother was Mary Campbell.”

He had a whole speech, he had worked on it with Castiel. It was official and eloquent, but at the sight of the sea of wings and faces and auras shining up at him, it evaporated from his mind. “Hi,” he waved sheepishly with the scepter, sending a ripple of fond amusement through the fairies.

“I um, I know this is a surprise. Believe me, I know.” He huffed out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Ok listen. I know that you guys don’t know me, that I’m just some human who appeared out of nowhere, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to - I just want to help, ok? I’m not here to tell you how to live your lives. I just -” Dean was embarrassed to find his eyes misting up. He paused to clear his throat again.

“I never knew about Eden. My mom left this realm behind to be with the man she loved, she lived as a human, and was killed before she had the chance to tell me where she came from. I know that when she left, she thought the kingdom was in good hands, that my grandparents would continue to rule. I am -” he sniffled, and rolled his eyes at himself. “I am so sorry for what all of you have gone through these past two decades. I wish I had known about this realm, about my family. I know that _that_ ,” he gestured towards the door that Zachariah had been taken through. “That was now what my mom would’ve wanted. As much as she loved my dad and the human realm, I know she wouldn’t have left here if she had known that her people were going to suffer for it.”

Dean used the sleeve of his gorgeous jacket to wipe his eyes. _You can’t cry your way to a throne, dude. Get it together_ , he chastised himself. “I’m sorry that this is so long overdue, and I know I don’t deserve your loyalty, that you’ve been let down, but if you’ll let me, I want to try and make your lives better. I want to get to know Eden, to know all of you, and my only hope is that you might want to know me, too. I’m not my mom, and I’m definitely not my grandparents, and I’m sorry that I’m the best that I can offer you right now. I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere in the human realm, I never had a real purpose. But the moment I stepped on Eden’s ground, I felt like I was at home. The moment I held these,” he held up the scepter and orb. “I felt complete. So um, are you willing to give me a shot?”

The ballroom was quiet. Dean didn’t know where to go from there, he had kinda put everything out in the open, and he braced himself for rejection. He had run his mouth and emphasized how grossly underqualified he was for this, of course they’d send him packing.

His eyes found Castiel, and he was about to ask him to just take him back to the human realm so he could forget about all of this, when Castiel lowered himself to one knee and bowed his head. Dean leaned forward, wanting to stop him, he had already fucked everything up, and Castiel was about to throw himself under the bus right along with him. Dean stood frozen and helpless as Castiel steamed on. “I, Castiel Novak, recognize Dean Winchester as my king and commander. Long live the king!”

There were two beats of heavy, oppressing silence before the crowd erupted in a frenzy of noise and movement. Dean braced himself for impact before he realized they were all moving to kneel. And then he heard the words.

“Long live the king! Long live the king! Long live the king!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic started with a prompt, and it was supposed to be around 1k words. That... didn't work out so much.
> 
> Obviously there's a lot more for these boys to work through, and very likely a sequel is coming, but I don't have any sort of timeline for that yet. I was writing this chapter and when I had gotten those last few sentences on paper I paused and thought, "That's it, that's the end." 
> 
> I have some plans for the sequel, but they're mostly very vague, flitting snatches of plot or ideas floating around in my brain, so hopefully soon I'll be able to piece those together to keep this 'verse going. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this, whether reading the updates weekly or subscribing and waiting for the completion, or stumbling across it somewhere down the line. I had a blast with this story, and I'm excited to continue it once my life and my brain both calm down a little bit. I'm on [Tumblr](http://bfab11.tumblr.com/) if you want to come say hi.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok this fic has been sitting in my folder, sometimes worked on, mostly ignored for like, a year and a half? Maybe longer? Anyways. I have a good chunk written, but it is a WIP. I am going to attempt weekly updates (Looking at Wednesdays), but they might not remain consistent, depending on how life goes and if I can manage to continue my progress and keep up. Comments will motivate me :)


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